Lyric

I was once a theater student. I didn't get cast much. Barely at all. The last time finished me off, and I believe it was meant as a mercy casting. I do so love irony.

It was musical. One of the instructors, who ran the box office, where I worked my student job, conceived and Directed the hell out of It. It (don't ask me the name) was supposed to spotlight great lyrics, speak them, with just some added music. Flattering air brush painted body suits with appropriate costume pieces added. Sounds potentially good, right? I mean, for actors... sounds fun, right? Like it COULD be good? After all these years, I still chew on how bad the production was, how wrongly ambitious, how teeth grittingly embarrassing. And the why of the misery was largely a matter of execution.

It really could have been good. A Poetry Slam, with lyrics. Bob Dylan, The Who, Patsy Cline, old blues or Frank Zappa or Spike Jones. Whole lotta great variety of material there. Take it all out of context, no dippy pop or smarmy Broadway tunes or top 40 or Standards - nothing in fact recognizable as a song - at least at first. Actors wearing a raid on the costume shop and doing dramatic or funny or 'Philip Glass Buys A Loaf of Bread' (Ives) overlapping and meshing of several lyrics, balls to the wall aggressive performances. No fucking music or singing at all. Or only the songs presented, canned, played before and at intermission.

Instead. Oh, gods, instead. Pastel body suits, no airbrushing, no skirts or shirts or hats or anything. Bodies on a stage. Self conscious bodies on a bare stage. Dancing, too.

Lots of singing, as well as talking of songs. Talking. Songs. Think about saying the words to 'Ebony and Ivory' for instance. It is silly, creepy, peculiar. I work with a surgeon* who does this, and it's terribly funny to me, to him, and annoying to many, because he knows all the lyrics. He says them all in a dull monotone, including the "oooo baby baby"s right before the line is sung. It is not what anyone could call theatrical. Amusing as hell at work, but, not on a stage.

I was given the solo of that Lionel Ritchie tripe - "Hello." I sang it, out loud, on stage. I may still want to take a another bath just thinking about it.

Worse, far worse than the pop songs, the Broadway numbers. We did a choir version of Singin' in the Rain. Why? A question I still ask. He had the music? We were supposed to do a very strange "Pretty Women." Not the, rock, Pretty WomAn (Walking down the street.) A song I hate quite a lot. No, Pretty WomEn some bit of antiquated Broadway tripe with the most pretty boy in the cast crooning to all the women perched around the stage.

Pretty women sippin coffee**
Breathing lightly
screwing pool boys***



When we couldn't let him get all the way through the song without smirking, rolling our eyes or shaking with suppressed giggles, the Director gave up on the number.

Ultimately it just sucked time and energy. It was the last time I wanted to act on stage.

Thanks, I've wanted to get that off my chest for a long long time. Now, of course, I may have to actually write the damn thing. Perhaps including a very sweet recitation of Sex Farm Woman.





* P. L., a skilled and talented orthopedic surgeon who, technically, I have not worked with for two years.
**(Just looked it up, it's in front of The Ladies Who Lunch, which at least puts an acid twist into the choice.)
***(Ok I made that line up)