The Play's The Thing
As loyal readers will know by now, Mrs. DJStan and I are both big theatre fans. One of the benefits of living in NYC is the wealth of theatre available at any time. Sometimes it's not so hot (see my post on Ring of Feh, for example) but sometimes it's just great. Two recent outings were both in the second category, and both had something musical going on.
In the first case, it's obvious: we saw a Musical. It's now in previews, and it's called The Drowsy Chaperone. The basic premise is simple: a contemporary devotee of 1920's musical theatre - a somewhat effete divorced man, living in a decent but run-down studio apartment - breaks the fourth wall and tells us that he's going to play his favorite recording (emphasis on "record", which he cleans diligently before laying down the tonearm) for us: the original cast album of a typical 20's antique entitled - yes, that's right - The Drowsy Chaperone. The scratchy overture merges into a fuller sound as the pit band takes over, and the show begins. The characters emerge from the closets (and the refrigerator), sets and props appear, and the entire play takes place before your eyes, with the narrator wandering in and out of the action.
Bottom line: it's a hoot, very funny, and very true to the form it parodies. There's a producer and his bimbo, a star who wants true love, a pair of comic gangsters, an aviatrix, and - of course - the drowsy chaperone herself, a jaded vamp who gets involved with a latin lover. The songs are pastiches of period music, including a hysterical number entitled "I Put A Monkey On A Pedestal" (yes, it makes sense in context) .
I ended up listening to a lot of 20's popular music the following week, including Classic Bing Crosby - 1927-34, Fascinating Rhythm: Gershwin on Broadway (original recordings), Dippermouth Blues (King Oliver), an RCA 20's collection from their archives (part of the Nipper's Greatest Hits series) and a Geoff Muldaur produced set of Bix Beiderbecke's music called Private Astronomy, orchestrated for what Muldaur calls a "chamber jazz orchestra". All great listening, and all patches in the brilliant crazy quilt that is American music.
The second play was The Lieutenant of Inishmore, a Tarantino-esque comedy of terrors with a brogue that had me laughing from start to finish. Set on a bleak Irish island in the early 90's, the play tells the story of two daft characters who get involved with a dead cat beloved of a psychotic member of a tiny IRA splinter group (the IRA itself wouldn't have him because he's too crazy), and the consequences. It's fiendishly funny if you're not put off by the sight of stage blood, and makes some sharp points (with axes and otherwise) about the nature of politics, terror, and how murder for lofty goals can easily become an addiction where lip service to the goals merely serves to shore up the dark joys of killing. It reminded me of Tom Waits' growling take on Brecht's lines - "Mankind can keep alive, thanks to its brilliance at keeping its humanity repressed; For once, you must not try to shirk the facts: Mankind is kept alive by bestial acts" - from the Weil collection, Lost In The Stars (an excellent album, unfortunately out of print).
Anyway, while the blackout pauses are punctuated by cannon-like percussion (heavy tympanies), there's also the occasional piece of an Irish song, particularly Dominic Behan's "The Patriot Game". Even if you don't know this song, the melody will probably be very familiar to you - Dylan took it, whole cloth, for "With God On Our Side" - and the lyrics are worth contemplating in light of the state of the world today (or almost any day, sadly enough). The opening verses go like this (sing along if you know the tune):
In the first case, it's obvious: we saw a Musical. It's now in previews, and it's called The Drowsy Chaperone. The basic premise is simple: a contemporary devotee of 1920's musical theatre - a somewhat effete divorced man, living in a decent but run-down studio apartment - breaks the fourth wall and tells us that he's going to play his favorite recording (emphasis on "record", which he cleans diligently before laying down the tonearm) for us: the original cast album of a typical 20's antique entitled - yes, that's right - The Drowsy Chaperone. The scratchy overture merges into a fuller sound as the pit band takes over, and the show begins. The characters emerge from the closets (and the refrigerator), sets and props appear, and the entire play takes place before your eyes, with the narrator wandering in and out of the action.
Bottom line: it's a hoot, very funny, and very true to the form it parodies. There's a producer and his bimbo, a star who wants true love, a pair of comic gangsters, an aviatrix, and - of course - the drowsy chaperone herself, a jaded vamp who gets involved with a latin lover. The songs are pastiches of period music, including a hysterical number entitled "I Put A Monkey On A Pedestal" (yes, it makes sense in context) .
I ended up listening to a lot of 20's popular music the following week, including Classic Bing Crosby - 1927-34, Fascinating Rhythm: Gershwin on Broadway (original recordings), Dippermouth Blues (King Oliver), an RCA 20's collection from their archives (part of the Nipper's Greatest Hits series) and a Geoff Muldaur produced set of Bix Beiderbecke's music called Private Astronomy, orchestrated for what Muldaur calls a "chamber jazz orchestra". All great listening, and all patches in the brilliant crazy quilt that is American music.
The second play was The Lieutenant of Inishmore, a Tarantino-esque comedy of terrors with a brogue that had me laughing from start to finish. Set on a bleak Irish island in the early 90's, the play tells the story of two daft characters who get involved with a dead cat beloved of a psychotic member of a tiny IRA splinter group (the IRA itself wouldn't have him because he's too crazy), and the consequences. It's fiendishly funny if you're not put off by the sight of stage blood, and makes some sharp points (with axes and otherwise) about the nature of politics, terror, and how murder for lofty goals can easily become an addiction where lip service to the goals merely serves to shore up the dark joys of killing. It reminded me of Tom Waits' growling take on Brecht's lines - "Mankind can keep alive, thanks to its brilliance at keeping its humanity repressed; For once, you must not try to shirk the facts: Mankind is kept alive by bestial acts" - from the Weil collection, Lost In The Stars (an excellent album, unfortunately out of print).
Anyway, while the blackout pauses are punctuated by cannon-like percussion (heavy tympanies), there's also the occasional piece of an Irish song, particularly Dominic Behan's "The Patriot Game". Even if you don't know this song, the melody will probably be very familiar to you - Dylan took it, whole cloth, for "With God On Our Side" - and the lyrics are worth contemplating in light of the state of the world today (or almost any day, sadly enough). The opening verses go like this (sing along if you know the tune):
Come all you young rebels, and list while I sing,As you might guess, the song doesn't end well for the singer.
For the love of one's country is a terrible thing.
It banishes fear with the speed of a flame,
And it makes us all part of the patriot game.My name is O'Hanlon, and I'm just gone sixteen.
My home is in Monaghan, where I was weaned.
I learned all my life cruel England to blame,
And so I'm a part of the patriot game.It's barely two years since I wandered away
With the local battalion of the bold IRA,
I'd read of our heroes, and I wanted the same
To play out my part in the patriot game.
posted by DJStan at 7:35 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home