In the summer, the city sponsors a summer ‘outdoor event’ series called Grand Performances at the Los Angeles Plaza, downtown.  The other Friday, the Plaza was host to an open-air screening of the excellent documentary Theremin, about an early pioneer in electronic music.

It turned out to be packed far beyond the organizers’ expectations; by the time we arrived there was no place left to sit with a clear view of the screen.  As we prepared to leave, it was announced that it was still too light out for the movie to be shown; so until the sun set, the crowd would be treated to a special, pre-screening live Theremin performance.

Being some yards away and well above stage level, the turnip-shaped performer who took the stage could have either been a portly man in his forties or a very strapping lady lumberjack in her fifties.  A pile of platinum curls topped off an ensemble consisting of baby blue leisure pants with a black belt hiked up high and a clinging, long-sleeved grey polyester shirt with a pattern of UFO-like shapes floating in formation, buttoned at the cuffs. 

The idea that this might be a ‘transgender’ musician crossed my mind and, thinking of Walter (now Wendy) Carlos, I wondered if electronic music had a higher incidence of ‘gender reassignment’ than other fields.  At the very least, this would make two that I was aware of, and that was two more than say, Dixieland Jazz had going for it.  But the sound of his voice when he said ‘good evening’ confirmed he was male.

The first number began with a pre-recorded backing track of an escalating orchestral theme that continued to climb as the musician readied his instrument for its big entrance.

The Theremin is an unusual instrument; it looks like a simple wood box on legs, with a rod sticking out of the top and a loop of pipe projecting from the side.  Because the Theremin utilizes electromagnetic fields generated by the concealed electronics of the box, the performer doesn’t actually touch the instrument at all to play it; instead, they move their hands in the air as if conducting an invisible orchestra, manipulating the fields to create an ethereal, ghostly ‘voice’ familiar from "Good Vibrations" and numerous sci-fi movies of the fifties.

Wooo-OOOO...  woo woo woo woo woo woo woo...

As the Theremin kicked in singing an otherworldly soprano melody, the piece was instantly recognizable as the Star Trek theme.  The audience cheered enthusiastically.

He played it perfectly, and upon its conclusion he was rewarded with another well-deserved round of appreciative applause.  As they calmed down, he spoke:

"That was, of course, the ‘Theme From Star Trek,’" - more applause - "and I would like to dedicate that performance to Mr. Jimmy Doohan."

James Doohan being the actor who played the beloved ship’s engineer on Star Trek; he had passed away two days earlier.

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers.

He raised a hand up in the air, and with an air of intense solemnity, addressed his final comment reverently to the stars, to the heavens themselves:

"Beam me up, Scotty!”

copyright,  © 2006 Wyatt Doyle

for information on Wyatt Doyle's collaboration with Stanley Jason Zappa, STOP REQUESTED, click here.