THEO LANGASON

CEDAR COMMISSIONS SPOTLIGHT INTERVIEWS

Over the next few weeks we’re featuring the six artists of the 2022-2023 Cedar Commissions (taking place Friday, February 17th, and Saturday, February 18th at The Cedar) in a series of interviews on our site. The Cedar Commissions is a flagship program for emerging Minnesotan composers and musicians made possible with a grant from the Jerome Foundation.

In 2022, the first year that The Cedar was open from January to December since 2019, these artists began crafting their commissions with a bit more normalcy on the horizon, but a lot of strangeness, newness, and darkness in the rearview. They’ve been composing, exploring new ideas, and assembling teams of musicians to bring their work to fruition on The Cedar’s stage later this month. Over the two nights of the Twelfth Annual Cedar Commissions, audience members will witness performances about the existential threat of petrol, the importance of protecting and embracing Somali youth, how to find meaning in the indescribable, how to listen to the song of the planet, an illustration of journeying gender transition, and a depiction of the soul-body reunion after trauma.

Our first spotlight interview in this years cohort is with Theo Langason (he/him). Theo is a multidisciplinary theatre artist, teaching artist, and musician. His new work for the 2022-2023 Cedar Commissions songs for making sense of it all is an exploration into the inherently destabilizing time that was (is?) life from March 2020 onwards. In December, Theo spoke with Twin Cities music writer Youa Vang about his diverse upbringing, picking up and putting down various instruments, and watching his dreams disintegrate and reform.

“I was in a space of not knowing what was next, what I was going to do, who I was. So much of my identity was tied to my work as a theater artist, and I was left grappling with that. I still am trying to figure out what’s next and who I am and all that stuff. What an immensely disruptive time in our lives. Luckily, I’m healthy, I’m safe, you know, and I’m thankful for that, but I also grieve because I’m still in it in a lot of ways and still crawling out in a lot of ways.”

— Theo Langason

Youa Vang (she/her): Give me a little bit of background about yourself.

Theo Langason (he/him): I grew up in Northeast Minneapolis. My dad is an immigrant from Cameroon, and my mom is a white lady from White Bear Lake, Minnesota. I grew up in a pretty diverse upbringing.

My high school was super diverse. I didn't notice that until I left. It was called Main Street School of Performing Arts. Now it's called PIM, the Performing Institute of Minnesota. I went there for high school, and that is where my practice as a musician began – in high school. I was there to study theater, and I was a theater major in high school but took music classes whenever I could. I would skip my academic classes to go sit in with music classes and hang out in practice rooms with people and make music and putz around on GarageBand and things like that.

Youa: Was guitar always your instrument of choice?

Theo: I didn't start playing guitar until college. When I was making music at Main Street, I played trumpet (poorly), and I also played bass pretty poorly. Then I went to college in Camden, New Jersey at Rutgers University, just across the river from Philadelphia. I spent my college years in New Jersey and Philly and studied theater again and started learning guitar in college. I was playing a little bit, mostly just covers and other people's songs, and when I graduated and moved back to Minneapolis, I started hanging out and reconnecting with my art friends. Some early memories of songwriting I have are hanging out at Occupy Minneapolis and jamming with friends. It was a friend on the guitar and then making up songs and melodies that we would all sing together. That transitioned to a standing collaboration I have with a group of friends where we would endeavor on different artistic projects together.

For several years in a row, we would do a musical in one of their garages where we would invite the neighborhood and our friends to a mix of dance and theater and music. I continued on my theatrical career as an actor and director. It got to the point where I was getting less interested in acting. A friend of mine said, “Hey, you should come do this play.” I said, “I want to do it, but I actually want to do the music for it. You should let me do the music.” So I started doing music for plays and stuff, playing guitar and singing, and I said, “Oh snap, this is fun.” I continued to pursue music in that context and was writing songs of my own on the side.

Youa: You have so many other side projects. What compelled you to apply for the Cedar Commissions?

Theo: This is the second time I've applied to the Cedar Commissions and I got it this time, which is super cool.

I'm Co-Artistic Director of Red Eye theater. We have a festival where we do new works and people apply to that. I understand that not getting it has very little to do with my project. It has so much more to do with the people that are reading it and the other people that have applied than it actually does with me. The second time I applied, it was easier because I looked through my email for the first application. I copied and pasted and changed whatever I was feeling that didn’t feel true anymore. It's really easy to have ego come up when you’re rejected, but it has so little to do with me, whether I get it or not.

Youa: Tell me what it's like to be a son of an immigrant. Do you think it shaped you in different ways?

Theo: Obviously we are a product of the sum of our experiences. One of the main things that I reflect on in terms of my background, and specifically two parents that come from completely different places and environments from each other, but also neither of them grew up in the kind of neighborhood that I grew up in. Of course there were moments as a young person where I was like, “Oh, I don't know where I fit in.” It was this old adage of, “Not light enough for the white folks, not black enough for the black folks,” that was definitely part of it, especially having a father who was African. Visually he is black, culturally, he is Cameroonian. I think having an awareness of different cultural settings, and then also as a child, having to learn to navigate those different cultural settings actually set me up for success in a lot of ways.

Youa: How so?

Theo: I had an awareness of the world at a very young age. I knew that America wasn't the only place in the world. I knew that there were good things about it, but it wasn't the best place in the world. It just is a place, and growing up, my dad is the oldest of nine. He was the first of his family to come over to the US when he was 27. Because he was the oldest when relatives came over from Cameroon, they all lived with us. There were stretches of time where there were eight, nine, ten,eleven people in my family's three-bedroom house. Eventually it was a four bedroom ‘cause we refinished the basement, but definitely there were several years during my tween years where the house was full and there were a lot of adults and relatives.

It was a time where I really learned the importance of community and the importance of sharing a space. Upon reflection, at the time I hated it. I was, “Oh my God, get out of my space.” But I also got to see adults communicating with each other and navigating space together as a young person. I got to see adults navigating conflict in pretty healthy ways. I got to witness that and learn from that, which I think is good. I grew up eating different cuisines, which is super cool. I think now the culinary world that we live in is very rich and vibrant, but you know, at the turn of the millennium, it wasn't like that. There wasn't a restaurant for every kind of food. I had those experiences, which is cool. My life is all the richer for it.

Youa: You had mentioned the change of awareness of cuisine and culture. What do you think changed that?

Theo: The internet, The sort of way in which we are more connected to the world, primes people's willingness to try new things. It was the opening of that aperture for people and saying, “There's more than just hot dish and hamburgers, you know?” I think that's the biggest thing. We have more connection to the world and to the cuisines of the world. I was watching a video where someone is going around and eating mofongo and I'm like, “Damn, what's mofongo? I really want to try that.” That's really cool. It's easier for people to develop a hunger for those sorts of things.

Youa: Speaking of the internet and connecting us more, during the uprising and pandemic, we experienced a lot of that in the world. We got to see a lot of that through the internet. Why did you base your Cedar Commissions project around the pandemic?

Theo: It's more the cumulative stress of existing right now. For me, the pandemic and then the uprisings, these were really immensely collective traumatic events that we are all living through.

Youa: Were you creating during that time?

Theo: There were a couple of moments in the beginning where I had a couple of moments. It was around the same time each year where I was like, “Oh, I should be doing my taxes, but let me write a song real quick.” But in general, the pandemic was actually a really challenging time, artistically. It still is in a lot of ways. I'm still climbing out of it. Prior to the pandemic, all of my income was from making theater, and that just stopped. I was like, “Oh snap, how do I pick up the pieces? Is theater dead?” I'm not a filmmaker and have no interest in Zoom theater – I think it's awesome and a completely viable and realistic form of performance – but there are a lot of reasons why I like doing theater, and Zoom theater doesn't scratch enough of those itches for me.

I was in a space of not knowing what was next, what I was going to do, who I was. So much of my identity was tied to my work as a theater artist, and I was left grappling with that. I still am trying to figure out what's next and who I am and all that stuff. What an immensely disruptive time in our lives. Luckily, I'm healthy, I'm safe, you know, and I'm thankful for that, but I also grieve because I’m still in it in a lot of ways and still crawling out in a lot of ways.

Youa: I think we, as humans, like to compartmentalize things. “That happened, and it’s over. We're better now.” We forget how trauma stays with us, and we manifest it in different ways. It could be how we react to other people, how we react to relationships, or just even ourselves. We forget that. So we are definitely all still climbing out of it.

Youa: You talked about how you're still trying to climb your way out from the trauma and the stress of the last couple of years. Are you okay if you're never a hundred percent there?

Theo: I want to get back to happy, ‘cause there's still great joy. I think it's more sloughing off the layers of callous that have built up and crack and, and are rough. I’m trying to get back to a time before this weight of constant grief around what was lost in those times. I feel I'm getting to a good place.

I'm in therapy, getting our medication. I'm actively working towards those things in the most concrete way that I can. I definitely feel better about it than I have recently. I also don't know if it's ever going to go away ‘cause it was such a specific and durational and intense time. There's just a lot to chew on and a lot to grieve.

I got a day job during the pandemic. I run a summer camp now. I love the job, and I was getting a steady paycheck for the first time in years. I realized a steady stream of income was very good for my mental health. I definitely miss the freedom of the freelance and gigging of, “Okay, my only job is this artistic project right now. I also recognize I also want to retire. I'm a fancy bitch, so I want nice things. So I need money.

Youa: You are also the Artistic Co-Director at Red Eye Theater. Do you prefer to direct or act?

Theo: I definitely prefer directing. I love the play of it. You get in a room with some artists and you say, “Cool, how do we tell this story?” You're really trying to figure it out. That's the most fun part for me is the figuring it out. Once it's figured out, I'm like, “Cool, y'all can repeat that. Great.”I definitely have a performance itch that needs to be scratched, but I get that when doing improv. I have a solo improv poetry show that I do. That's where I get my performing itch scratched and that stays fresh because it's always different. The play and the problem solving happens with the audience. That's the most fun part. Being an actor is fine, and I've had a lot of fun in the past in my life, but I'm less interested in it. That part feels the most “jobby job” – the part of it where it's, “I’ve got to clock in my time as this person.” Especially if it's a long run, I get bored of it a little bit.

Youa: Obviously, in your high school days, college, and when you became a Music Director, why were you always drawn to music?

Theo: Because it's the best. Music is such a beautiful blend of visceral and intellectual, right? You can listen to a song and know nothing about it and be truly affected. Then also you can get super heavy and learn a lot of stuff. That breadth of experience is super exciting. When we listen to sounds and music, it is literally vibrating our molecules, and it affects us deeply. For me, it feels impossible not to love music because it's so elemental and so essential and so full of joy and can answer so many questions, both asked and unasked.

There are some moments where I've heard some songs and it has changed the way that I see the world. The profundity of music is immense and deep and seemingly infinite.

Youa: Can you tell me about your song “Estelle”? I feel like it’s one of the saddest songs I’ve ever heard.

Theo: That wasn't the intention. I don't know if it's sad, but that's cool that it feels like that. I definitely feel there's some melancholy to it for sure. I'm sort of melancholy by default.

Youa: People interpret songs in different ways. Are you okay with that when a listener applies it to how they're feeling in life?

Theo: I try not to think too much about how something is being interpreted because it can be interpreted in so many different ways. I really try and think more about, “How true does this feel to me?” You can interpret it however you'd like. I think it's interesting that you said that song is sad. It's bittersweet, but the memories that I have with that song are all very happy. When I sing that song, it brings me a lot of joy.

Youa: Let's talk about your Cedar Commission. Where are you in the process right now?

Theo: I am crawling through mud, trying to pluck things out. Basically, at this point, I'm trying to assemble as much source material as I can. I'm in the phase of trying to collect words in a notebook and trying to try playing different stuff on the guitar and seeing how it feels. I’m talking to friends about how they use music to figure stuff out, so I’m amassing all of that information, so I can then go through and start pulling it together in some cohesive and coherent form. It feels like it's been a lot of time in here and still is; it's still cooking. If I were the boss of me during this thing, I would say, “You know what, you're maybe a little behind, but I have the utmost faith that you'll be able to pull it out.” That's how it feels. It's in the arc of the thing I feel behind, but I still feel good. I'm not forcing anything, which means it's sort of going slowly.

Youa: When creatives procrastinate, it’s a way of letting your mind try to configure what you’re doing and how to process how you’re going to do the actual thing.

Theo: I'm of the school of regardless of how much time you have, creation happens in an instant. The crafting and the honing is what takes the most time. My aesthetic is rough around the edges anyways. I'm feeling good about where I'm at.

Youa: When you were talking to your friends and other artists about this project, to gather information and source information, what did they share with you that was kind of eye-opening?

Theo: There's a lot that I'm still chewing on, but one thing was just the different ways that folks can really be affected by music and really use it as a support. Whether that is soundtracking, like, “I put this on when I need to do this,” and “I put this on if I'm feeling this way,” or “If I hear this song, it'll pull me out of whatever I'm feeling.” That has been fun to get to know.

Youa: You listed some people that you interviewed for this, Eric Mayson and Aby Wolf. What did you get from those conversations?

Theo: I haven't had a chance to connect with Aby yet, but Eric and I have been talking, and he's going to play with me too. He's been super fertile during the pandemic and has been making a lot of music. Listening to some of that stuff has been really exciting. He and Aby are so prolific in their writing. They're wild. Eric's been like that for forever though. We've known each other since high school, and he has an encyclopedic knowledge of songs, both his and other people's. It'll be where we'll start playing a song and I think I've heard it a couple of times and I'll follow along, but he knows all of the words.

Youa: Who do you think the audience is for this commission? Who do you want it to be?

Theo: People with a pulse. I want everyone to come. I don't know exactly how it's going to pan out, but I think I'm approaching the evening from – not just a musical mind – but from a theatrical mind throughout the whole show. There's going to be opportunities for the audience to connect with me and connect with each other. It's for anybody and everybody who's down to take a step into vulnerability for the sake of deeper understanding of the human condition.

Youa: What gets you excited about sharing this work with others?

Theo: I'm most excited for taking the thing that exists in my mind and in my small concentric circle and then seeing what it does as I introduce it to more people. I do really want to keep an element of, “We don't know what this will be until the night, until we know who's in the room.” My performance work, as of late, has been really focused on gathering the audience, being in space with them, creating a conversation, and then using that conversation to then create the art. There'll be some of that in the room. I don't know exactly how yet, but I'm doing a run of my poem show in January. That'll be a really important informational time where I'll get to try some stuff and formulate what that could look like.

Youa: Is your poetry very different from your music?

Theo: It's similar. I think it’s image rich. I can be verbose which is true of my music, as well. It definitely feels kindred and there is a portion of the poetry show where I do make up a song based on audience input. The whole frame of the poetry show is I lead the audience on a guided memory through their happiest moment, and then ask them questions and they shout out words. I then create a poem based on those words. Then I'll interview someone and just get deeper into their moment, and I make up a song about it on the spot. That's the form of the show, so there's definitely a lot of crossover.

Catch Theo Langason’s performance of songs for making sense of it all premiering live at The Cedar on Saturday, February 18th as part of the Twelfth Annual Cedar Commissions. Buy tickets here.