Saturday, my editor sent me up to the City on short notice to review an anniversary retrospective "happening" of early 60s avant-garde performance art. The sort of event that would have prominently featured the name of Yoko Ono, long before anybody else had heard of her.
Which it did. A guy came out onto the darkened stage and lit a match. Then another guy swept the stage for a few minutes. Then they both hit their heads against the walls. That was three separate compositions by Yoko. You can get an idea of the rest of it from the review.
My take on all this is that it was more meaningless theatrical dada than meaningless musical dada, but I also know this: that if you're going to attend an event like this at all, you just have to accept it for what it is and not try to assimilate it into something else.
All the same, I'm relieved that I didn't have to pay to see it.