Green-Wood Cemetery’s Curios in the Catacombs is a spooky delight

In a city as bustling as New York, it’s easy to become a bit numb to cacophony. Fourteen years in, however, and I found something I had never experienced before: a full concert performed on toy pianos and various bric-a-brac percussion in a narrow catacomb dug atop a hill at an otherwise pin-drop-quiet cemetery in the heart of south Brooklyn.

For nearly a decade, Green-Wood Cemetery has hosted a series of concerts in its 30-vault catacomb. The burial site was initially constructed in the 1850s for those who wanted to be buried above ground but couldn’t afford their own mausoleum.

The tunnel itself is fairly unassuming, void of inlet carvings save for a skylight at the far end, with each of the vaults loosely enclosed with their own metal gate and the occasional family name above an entranceway. (One notable adornment was a Daughters of the American Revolution crest to the left of an otherwise unmarked entrance.) Walking through it today, you can still make out several of the big names above these breakout rooms — Ferguson, Piro, and Herrmann, to name a few — with the rest otherwise unmarked from the main entranceway.

I might’ve been able to make out more details during the daytime, but I entered the cemetery long after nightfall to see Curios in the Catacombs, a performance piece by avant-garde artist Margaret Leng Tan. When I arrived, Tan and her team were setting up for their second and final show of the night. The tunnel was awash in a purple glow from a scattering of floor lights, save for the entranceway, which had additional illumination from a projection of a vintage clown photograph.

There were three makeshift stages in the middle of the tunnel flanked by 50 or so seats in all. Farthest down and just in front of the Piro vault there was a baby grand piano that was maybe a few feet tall at most — many of Tan’s toy pianos are custom made, she told me later. The sense of scale was disorienting, to say nothing of the location. Several more toy pianos were eventually brought out, as well as a wind-up music box, a children’s toy phone, various masks, and other accouterments I could barely describe, much less guess how they’d be used in the show.

I took my seat as the crowd came in, ferried from the entrance on a trolley. After several minutes of folks slowly finding their spots, all trying to steal a glance into each vault along the way, the room quieted down, and Tan began her performance of Curios in the Catacombs.

Any description of the performance won’t do it much service. But to come close, I suggest you watch this video, and I’ll just say: “It’s this, but so, so much more.”

Throughout the 90-minute show, Tan jumped effortlessly between various instruments and “instruments,” with every sound-producing device on stage — including the children’s toy phone — having at least one solo moment. Lyrics were sparse yet always adding to the eeriness; one number wrapped itself around a World War I children’s song about hearses. A particularly catchy/creepy ditty called “The Worms Crawl In”… well, I didn’t manage to write down any lyrics, but you can probably guess how it went. My highlight was “Rosie,” a musical horror tale in four scenes composed by a 10-year-old named Anastasha from Singapore.

Tan’s show would be an excellent opener to the spooky season no matter the venue, but among a crowd of entombed bodies that outnumbers the live audience by several factors, all enjoying the collective oddity in unison, it was a true thrill.

The catacomb concerts have closed for the year — with fall in effect, the temperatures are dropping far too low for the living. But the point remains, both now and every year hence: If someone invites you to see a show at a cemetery, whether it’s orchestral or curious or anything else, you say yes.