Welcome to this week's Street Sweeper!
Street Sweeper brings you the round–up of what’s going on around campus and in Philadelphia, including the post–metal band Alcest performing at Union Transfer, majestic orchestral performances, student–directed outdoor theater shows in the blistering cold, and rock climbing lessons. Spring break is near, and if you need ideas on what to do in Philly before you can finally jet off to Puerto Rico/Cabo/Cancun, look no further than this week’s Street Sweeper!
In this edition, Street attended Film and TV writer Bea Hammam’s directed play, “The Grown Ups,” went rock climbing, saw a ballet performance, attended a post–metal Alcest concert at Union Transfer, and more!
If you ever need Friday night plans, I personally recommend attending the free performances at the Philadelphia Music of Art weekly on Fridays. There is nothing more that gives the feeling of sophistication than drinking a fun cocktail while listening to live music in a museum. After rotting these past two weekends to study for my CIS midterm, I’d use any excuse to dress up and feel sophisticated.
—Fiona Herzog, Assignments Editor
The Buzz on Locust
The Grown Ups @ Herzog House
This weekend, I ventured out in the piercing cold to watch Street’s very own Bea Hammam (C '27) make her directorial vision come to life outside around the campfire as her cast of camp counselors performed “The Grown Ups.” I never thought that a play about a pineapple apocalypse through the eyes of high school camp counselors after hours could be so thought provoking.
“The Grown Ups” is a perfect blend of satire and sincerity, and it was impossible not to laugh, ponder, and even shed a few tears amid the relentless quips. Although I was wrapped in layers upon layers to fight off the frigid air, the play’s humor was the perfect antidote. It was funny, raw, and relatable. The play follows a group of senior camp counselors as they attempt to adapt to camp changes while trying to preserve the memory and uphold the traditions of what it once was. The issues that face these teenagers are timeless, and yet, have never been more relevant. In between my chuckles, I couldn’t help but feel an impending sense of doom for what was to come, only to be punched in the gut by laughter once again.
After the whirlwind of political unrest that the counselors navigate, the play ends with a monologue from Aidan, played by Isaac Pollock (C '25). He prompts us to close our eyes and answer a series of questions. It’s no longer him talking in front of us, rather, his voice coming out of his walkie–talkie. “What are you going to miss most about the way things are right now?” A pause. He lets us think and asks more questions. “What do you hope to get out of everything that comes next?” More questions. We open our eyes, the lights turn off, and I feel a chill, not just from the winter weather.
—Julia Girenti, Staff Writer
Penn Ballet: Anthologies @ Iron Gate Theater
Taking us through the airy and lighthearted Waltz of the Hours from Coppélia to Starry Night, as choreographed by Penn Ballet senior Rose Homentosky, Penn Ballet’s Anthologies was a mesmerizing journey through eras of ballet history.
The show was more than an exploration of ballet—it was a fusion of numerous styles and narratives. Excerpts from Cinderella stood out for their dynamism and skillful illumination. Shifting from tender green light and costumes through the rainbow to a bold purple, the performance told a vivid, constantly evolving story. Starry Night focused on reinventive interpretations and collaborative movement. The final comedic ballet performance played with stage directions as the dancers mistakenly took each other’s places, running into each other and missing the rhythm, which subverted the formality expected from the art and created a theatrical glimpse into a disordered performance.
The beautiful vignettes projected before each dance featured classical paintings of the time, inviting the audience to view ballet through the lens of visual art and its broader cultural moment. These transitions between styles and periods mirrored the experience of walking through a museum, where each work speaks to the past while influencing our understanding of the present.
My personal favorite was Abstract Reflections, which combined abrupt, angular movements with fluid transitions and striking synchronicity. Its blend of classical ballet with deliberate violations of tradition, set against minimalistic costumes, created something haunting and unforgettable.
By the final performance, the evening felt less like a static show and more like walking through a gallery of dance, each piece a glimpse into ballet’s past and present.
—Daria Knurenko, Staff Writer
Popping The Bubble
Alcest @ Union Transfer
Last Thursday, I entered Union Transfer, the music venue now full of goth girls with dyed hair and middle–aged men to attend the Alcest concert, a band that I had never heard of before this show, not knowing what to expect.
Alcest is a French post–metal band that combines the genre with shoegaze, creating a unique subgenre called “blackgaze.” I had only listened to their album “Les Chants de l’Aurore,” a record that combines screams with intensely calming production. (It seems like an oxymoron, and it is, but just listen and you’ll understand.)
The first opener, Kælan Mikla, an Icelandic goth–punk band, played a couple bangers that sounded like what would play during a rave scene in a John Wick–esque action movie. The lead singer did ghost–like interpretive dancing with darkly angelic vocals. It was slightly off–kilter for me, but it was still fantastic music.
After a 30–minute set, Kælan Mikla left the stage and was followed by the second opener MONO. MONO is a Japanese rock instrumental group that delivered some fantastic experimental sounds using instruments like gongs, xylophones, and a violin bow on a guitar. The band was met with loud applause and white guys yelling “Arigato!” at them. The lack of vocals allowed me to appreciate the ingenuity of their music production.
After another 30–minute set, Alcest came and delivered a beautiful hour–and–a–half performance of screaming with little body language indicating the intensity of the volume. Everybody headbanged to the rhythmic guitars and fast drumming. The two vocalists joined the crowd, their long, conditioned, and blown–out hair majestically flying around their face as they played.
Alcest’s yells ended with soft–spoken crowd–work, thanking Philly for coming out and introducing their songs from their discographies.
It was a truly remarkable show that exceeded all of my high expectations. Make sure to check out all three of the bands which played; they’re all incredibly talented and deserve all the love they receive.
—Jett Bolker, Music Beat
Smithsonian Academy Orchestra @ The Church of the Holy Trinity
Tucked in a church in Rittenhouse, the Smithsonian Academy Orchestra executed dramatic interpretations of Beethoven, Haydn, and Mendelssohn—beginning with harsh strings symbolizing death (a melody my friends and I didn’t expect to hear at a church) and eventually winding down to a mellow violin chorus.
Music without words is not something me and my friends are used to. If you had previously asked me to play Haydn on Spotify, I would have assumed the music would have been for background noise to study. When my friend proposed to attend a concert, we all decided to dress up, enjoy the music, then have a classy Target run along with a Cava dinner (a typical Center City endeavor). Little did we know, listening to the gloomy tones within the music would’ve been the highlight of our night.
My favorite part was the opening Beethoven: the ear–piercing strings overpowered the rest of the instruments, invoking a harsh and grim feel to the music. I felt like I was experiencing the rage of his "Coriolan Overture." I listened attentively to not only the abrupt changes in the music, but also the conductor’s interpretation he mentioned after the standing ovation. Who knew my favorite piece would have been about Coriolanus’ inevitable fate to death?
After the show, our topic of conversation was the sheer talent of the musicians, along with our own interpretations of each piece. Whether we fought on which composer had the better piece or which piece we would have on repeat during our next study session, we developed a newfound respect for the orchestra genre, along with new tracks to add to our playlists.
—Jaime Salazar, Staff Writer
Friday Night Lounge featuring JEWELSSEA @ The Philadelphia Museum of Art
Since coming to Penn, the Philadelphia Museum of Art has been a backdrop, a place that exists in peripheral vision. It served as the green screen for our orientation rites of passages, the meeting ground for the Super Bowl Parade, a landmark pointed to or zoomed in on for directions. A reference, but never a destination.
My "Flash Fiction" professor once said that a setting should feel like its own character. At Penn, the museum is our silent NPC, the set to first dates (a good one we can acknowledge at least), the frame for an Instagram post, a prop, the ensemble.
But on Friday night, I saw it anew.
Every week, the museum hosts a Friday Night Lounge—a night of live music, DJs, and special performances. This time, it featured JEWELSSEA, an artist that operates at the intersection of techno and electronic music. Her music transformed the Great Stair Hall into a pulsing, electric atmosphere. Even as an introvert with an aversion to crowds, I found myself drawn to the music, resonating with the sense of life. 20–somethings filled the hall with their laughter as they sipped on their plastic glasses of sangria, and families rushed to match the pace of their children on the move. The museum wasn’t a static or still landmark, it was filled with movement, with energy. In a space that seems to be dedicated to finding the beauty in the past, it was like everyone attending was trying to just carve space for the present moment.
If you attend a Friday Night Lounge, I promise that you will see that the art museum is something worth considering, especially if you’ve only been in the daylight. Friday after hours are an invitation and a reminder: this is a place that isn’t meant to be background music; it has lyrics worth listening to.
—Gia Gupta, Staff Writer
Rock climbing @ Movement Callowhill
What started as a simple TikTok repost on “The fashion mf to rock climber pipeline” turned into a full–blown weekend excursion as I discovered the hidden yet brilliant gem that was Philly’s climbing community. As a self–proclaimed fashion enthusiast, I hoped climbing would be perfect for me and set out to Movement, a popular chain of climbing gyms, with my friend Michael.
As we made the 30–minute commute to Chinatown, north–of–Vine, Michael explained that he put his $75 monthly membership to good use, going two to three times a week. Starting this summer at GRIP Vietnam, he stayed with the activity for its introspective nature and amazing community. AirPods in, he could spend entire days at the climbing gym just attempting new climbs and perfecting his techniques.
At the gym, the truth behind his words became apparent. Within 30 seconds of arriving, we found Penn and Philly residents alike that were climbing, chatting, and relaxing at the mats, staring up at the tall walls of the bouldering section and contemplating their next climb.
The levels started from V0, essentially glorified ladders, to V10s with button–sized holds so far apart they seemed physically impossible. As I donned climbing shoes which were tight enough to be modern torture devices and attempted my first V1, a random passersby cheered me on. Behind me, a woman we rode the train with asked Michael for advice on a new V3. I gathered my strength, reached for the next hold … and fell, landing squarely back on the mat. I sighed, reached back into the chalk bag, and prepared for my next attempt.
As I write this, my cuticles are all but shaven away and, incredibly, my finger muscles are almost too sore to type. Despite this, I’ll be spending the next month training up in Pottruck, preparing to conquer Movement’s bouldering wall the same time next month.
—Ethan Sun, Staff Writer
