Here Today: Brian Wilson and His Impressive Current Band Make 'Pet Sounds' Feel Alive -- Chicago Concert Review

Concert Review

Brian Wilson

with Al Jardine, Blondie Chaplin and band

Rosemont Theatre

October 6, 2017

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Brian Wilson was both the most and least important person onstage Friday night at the Rosemont Theatre.

Certainly, his was the name on the ticket and--while the venue was well short of full--undoubtedly the impetus for everyone being there.

This, of course, is due to the boatloads of magnificent songs he wrote with the Beach Boys--including the majestic Pet Sounds album, which was performed in full--and even some rather fine ones as a solo artist.

But along with his inarguable genius, Wilson is equally famed for mental and psychological difficulties that have beset him to various extents for 50+ years--since he created Pet Sounds in 1966, fought with his brothers/bandmates & overbearing dad, overindulged in psychedelic drugs and suffered several nervous breakdowns, including supposedly upon hearing the Beatles' brilliant Sgt. Peppers and the Lonely Hearts Club Band album on its 1967 release.

And while at age 75 he is thankfully well enough to maintain a near constant touring cycle, Wilson was the steadfast focal point behind a centerstage piano on Friday but--other than perhaps some sporadic tinkering--he didn't actually play it.

Lead vocals were spread around to several of the 11 other musicians onstage--including original Beach Boy Al Jardine and his golden-voiced son Matthew--and when Brian did sing, his timbre, phrasing and power clearly lagged behind his famed recordings and current cohorts.

But understandably, Wilson--whose famed ability to hear and compose music in his head and channel it through ace musicians may be historically second to none--has surrounded himself with sensational players and singers who do most of the heavy lifting.

This includes his stalwart pal, the elder Jardine, who after the 2012 Beach Boys 50th anniversary tour that included but then ousted Brian--at the hands of his seemingly cruel cousin, Mike Love--has opted to stay literally by Wilson's side.

On Wikipedia, you can find the full list of musicians accompanying Brian Wilson on the Pet Sounds 50th Anniversary Tour, which has run since March 2016 with 100+ worldwide shows and is wrapping up this week, at least for now.

But not only were all those onstage highly skilled at their craft--with many playing more than one instrument, singing harmonies and taking occasional lead turns--it seemed apparent that they too were there out of reverence for the music Wilson has given the world.

So while at times the concert reminded of a tribute band, jukebox musical, Las Vegas revue, music-infused religious service (with a central point of worship) or even a museum exhibit, even with showmanship far short of his 75-year old peer, Paul McCartney, and a focus that seemed to wander, it would be inaccurate to call Brian Wilson's acute contributions inconsequential.

If the main attraction didn't earn high marks for technical merit, over the course of 2-hours (plus a set break) I heard some of the greatest songs ever written sung and played quite well.

Preceding the Pet Sounds playthrough was a solid hour that blended Beach Boys mega-hits--"California Girls," "I Get Around," "Don't Worry Baby"--with much juicy fruit beyond the low hanging variety.

There isn't yet a setlist posted for the Rosemont show, but assuming I have the titles right, Matthew Jardine delivered a beautiful "Let the Wind Blow," his ever-dapper pop delivered a Beach Boys rarity that he wrote ("Susie Cincinnati"), the heralded sideman Blondie Chaplin sang and played sizzling guitar on "Wild Honey," and "Darlin'" was among several lesser-known tunes that delighted.

I am one of those who believes Pet Sounds to be one the 10 greatest rock albums ever produced but also--if dictated by putting it behind Sgt. Peppers, Sticky Fingers, Are You Experienced, Who's Next, Led Zeppelin IV, Born to Run, London Calling and Nevermind--just a tad overrated. 

Yet it was magical to hear it delivered live with such care and meticulousness.

And while the parts where Brian sang lead--most notably on the heavenly "God Only Knows," a bit interestingly given that his brother Carl sang it on the album--were the ones short of note perfect, there was something beautifully poignant about his boldly doing the best he could on such sacred material of his creation.

Songs such as "Wouldn't It Be Nice," "I'm Waiting for the Day," "Sloop John B," "I Know There's an Answer," "Here Today" and "I Just Wasn't Made for These Times" brought inherent joy and/or wistfulness and--preceded by Brian unnecessarily but movingly telling us that they were instrumentals--"Let's Go Away For Awhile" and the album's title tune had me imagining the maestro hearing/conjuring the melodies in his head.

Pet Sounds was followed out the door by one blast from the past after another--"Good Vibrations," "Help Me, Rhonda," "Barbara Ann," "Surfin' U.S.A.," "Fun, Fun, Fun"--before Wilson's solo "Love and Mercy" (..."that's what we need tonight") not only reminded of Brian's amazing journey as depicted in the biopic of the same name, it punctuated a dark week in America with a musical genius' heartrending pleading.

Hence, even more than on most of my reviews, my star rating--of @@@@ out of 5--is imprecise and unnecessary.

This won't rank as one of the top concerts I've seen this year, and Brian Wilson himself, in the here and now, is well short of musically spectacular.

But even though I had to skip watching a Cubs playoff game to attend, and although this was my 4th time seeing Wilson in the past 10 years--once with the Beach Boys--it was a wonderfully entertaining night I'm glad I didn't miss.

And with whatever disclaimers and delineations, Brian Wilson earned an avid standing ovation--and my abiding affinity--both for what he once did and who he still remains.

A Worthwhile Quest: At Writers Theatre, Henry Godinez Makes 'Quixote: On the Conquest of Self' a Rather Fun & Engaging Knight -- Chicago Theater Review

Theater Review

Quixote: On the Conquest of Self

by Mónica Hoth and Claudio Valdés Kuri
English translation by Georgina Escobar
Directed by Claudio Valdés Kuri
Writers Theatre, Glencoe, IL

Thru December 17

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My appreciation of great literature being admittedly more theoretical than actionable, I have never read Miguel de Cervantes' Don Quixote, which was actually published in two early 17th century volumes.

I primarily know of the most widely read-about fictional character in history--a commoner who imagines himself a knight on a valiant quest--via the brilliant classic musical, Man of La Mancha.

As such I was intrigued by a recent, non-musicalized Quixotic stage work that originated in Mexico and is getting its Chicago area premiere a Glencoe's Writers Theater with acclaimed Mexican director Claudio Valdés Kuri at the helm.

Henry Godinez, an Resident Artistic Associate at Chicago's Goodman Theatre and an acclaimed director in his own right, stars here as Don Quixote, albeit one who is familiar with cell phones and--per one of the biggest laugh-inducing lines of a show that almost entirely breaks the fourth wall--the Writers Theatre's origins in a bookstore.

Photo credit on all: Michael Brosilow

Quixote: On the Conquest of Self also relies on considerable good-natured audience participation as our would-be hero bounces around chapters Cervantes wrote about him, acts out selected scenes and speaks to patrons within the intimate Gillian Theatre--the smaller of two spaces in Writers' glorious new home--with a combination of droll self-awareness and acerbic contemporary day observation.

With Godinez truly wonderful as he pretty much speaks for 95 straight minutes, this take on Quixote is among the more imaginative pieces of theater I've ever seen.

Which doesn't mean I loved it through and through, although I do recommend it to those who appreciate literature, the themes of Don Quixote and inventive, unique, rather humorous theater that ventures into the realm of performance art.

As per my @@@@ rating (out of 5), Godinez--working from a script by the director (who originally staged it in Mexico City) and Mónica Hoth, with English translation by Georgina Escobar--clearly does yeoman's work in keeping things moving.

And at the opening night performance, those he pulled from the audience played along so well I wondered if more than one was a plant.

But I can't deny getting to a point where I wished the show would end sooner than it did.

And while I applaud the notions Quixote: On the Conquest of Self puts forth about daring to dream, failing only if one doesn't try and the imaginative power of language--at one point our license plate and bottle cap clad Quixote shares that over 16,000 different words were used to tell his tale vs. the 300 most of us use with regularity today--I can't say I came to much better know & appreciate the source novel or found myself consistently riveted in a theatrical sense.

"The limits of language are the limits of mind," states Godinez at one point, and it is the charming verbosity and wonderment of his character--blending both classic and modern embodiments--that make the show work as well as it does.

Though there are also some things that happen onstage I best not reveal which add considerably to Quixote: On the Conquest of Self being not only an engaging, but heartwarming piece of theater.

A noble quest indeed.

With even a knowing wink to Man of La Mancha's wondrous "The Impossible Dream" thrown in for good measure.

It may be a tad unwieldy and ponderous at times, but overall this highly unique show and exemplary performance make for a rather enjoyable knight.

More Good Than Great, 'Choir Boy' a Graceful Way for Longstanding Leaders to Bid Raven Nevermore -- Chicago Theater Review

Theater Review

Choir Boy
by Tarell Alvin McCraney
directed by Michael Menendian
Raven Theatre, Chicago
Thru November 12
@@@1/2

I have been going to plays by the Raven Theatre since 2002, soon after the troupe renovated a former grocery store at 6157 N. Clark Street and made it one of Chicago's most comfortable theater venues.

But the Raven was founded long before that, in 1983, by husband and wife Michael Menendian and JoAnn Montemurro, who have continued to serve as Co-Artistic Directors, until now.

I don't know exactly when the couple's retirement will take effect, but it was announced this past June that this will be their final season with Raven.

So presumably the current Choir Boy will be the last show of many Menendian has directed for the company--he isn't slated to lead any others already announced through June--and Montemurro, who has acted in several plays I've seen, serves as the costume designer.

Photo credit on all: Dean La Prairie

Though I wound up not loving the play as much as I had hoped--due to a somewhat diffuse storyline mixed with a staging that seemed a bit disjointed--it is a rather intriguing selection, and a classy way for Menendian and Montemurro to bid the Raven "Nevermore."

Choir Boy is written by Tarell Alvin McCraney, an actor & playwright who co-wrote the Oscar-winning movie, Moonlight, and shared its 2016 Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay. (The movie's screenplay is credited to its director, Barry Jenkins, based on McCraney's play, In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue.)

McCraney, who is black, openly gay, a DePaul Theater grad, Steppenwolf ensemble member and the chair of playwriting at the Yale School of Drama, bases Choir Boy within an all-male, African-American prep school.

The play's central character, Pharus (an excellent Christopher W. Jones) is the star and leader of the Charles R. Drew Prep School for Boys' prestigious chorus and, while not pronouncing it to his classmates and headmaster, known to be gay.

This makes him a target of derision, most overtly from the impetuous Bobby (Patrick Agada), who happens to be the nephew of the headmaster (Robert D. Hardaway).

While I can perceive the difficulty in making the constant clashing between Bobby and Pharus feel like something we haven't seen many times before, not only doesn't it, but at the same time it never seems to get heated enough.

And yet, while my noting that Choir Boy goes far beyond being just about a gay kid getting bullied may sound quite positive, I actually found the play weakened by too many competing strains.

In just 90 minutes--which was actually made to feel a good bit longer at the Raven despite strong performances throughout and a fine set design Ray Toler--we get some rather strong choir singing and several substantive interactions between Pharus, the Headmaster, Bobby and the three other members depicted onstage, including Pharus' roommate, Anthony (Tamarus Harvell). (Darren Patin and Julian Terrell Otis also merit mention.)

Even more diffusely, the narrative brings in a former headmaster (Don Tieri) to serve as the teacher of a newly-introduced class and faculty sponsor of the chorus. Though said to have legitimate marched-with-MLK civil rights props, the white, seemingly well-meaning Mr. Pendleton comes as cluelessly racist and insensitive.

Presumably part of McCraney's point is to highlight the dichotomies within us all. But in one scene Pendleton provides sage guidance to the current headmaster--who seems more concerned with job security than doing the right thing--about the historical certainty of homosexuality within a male prep school, but when Bobby demeans Pharus with slurs tied to race and sexuality, the teacher only berates him for the former.

Yet while Choir Boy doesn't bristle with enough tension for me to call it fantastic, it is clearly an intelligent piece of work, with quality to be found in numerous aspects of this production (including the singing, and discussion, of spirituals, though this isn't a musical).

So although this isn't the best show Montemurro and Menendian have collaborated on--a 2009 rendition of Death of a Salesman, in which she played Linda under his direction, was particularly splendid--it is nonetheless a fine way for them to say farewell. ("Nevermore" being undoubtedly overused even before I employed it twice already here.)

34 straight years of doing anything is pretty impressive, and their having run a theater company--including not only staging quality works but overseeing the fundraising and transformation of a fantastic new space--certainly deserves my admiration and thanks.

And, if less acutely than all-encompassingly, quite a bit of...

Outright Raven.

💔: A Heartbroken but Forever Appreciative Tribute to Tom Petty

"I wanna glide down over Mulholland 
I wanna write her name in the sky
I'm gonna free fall out into nothin'
Gonna leave this world for awhile"
 -- Tom Petty
    "Free Fallin'" (1989)

Even after being reported dead on Monday afternoon, Tom Petty wouldn't back down.

But by the end of one of the worst news days in American history--due to the unthinkable slaughter of music lovers at a festival in Las Vegas--the premature reports of Petty's death were replaced by official confirmation.

It made for an oddly fitting exit for one of rock's great iconoclasts.

Back in 1981, after the third Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers' album--the brilliant Damn the Torpedoes--made him a superstar, his record company, MCA, wanted to price the band's follow-up LP, Hard Promises, at $9.98, raising the industry standard by $1.00 for "superstar" acts.

To his own financial detriment, a 30-year-old Petty--who had already threatened to declare bankruptcy to force a previous detente with MCA--said "No way."

He would not allow his fans to be taken advantage of, insisting Hard Promises be list priced at $8.98.

MCA capitulated.

So although there isn't great humor or solace to be found in one of my favorite musicians dying unexpectedly at 66, on a day so mind-numbingly awful as to cushion the blow, given news reports--and resultant social media posts--over a 10-hour span Monday that had Petty in critical condition, on life support, off life support, confirmed dead, erroneously confirmed dead, clinging to life and, ultimately around 11pm CST, officially declared dead, one can imagine Petty, in his bemused Floridian drawl, saying something along the lines of:

"Can you all maybe stop tweeting out condolences. I'm not even dead yet."

Of course, the grim reality seems to be that after going into full cardiac arrest in his Malibu home early Sunday morning, the rocker was brain dead by the time he arrived at UCLA Medical Center, and never to be revived.

Though the past couple of years has seen a tsunami of rock star deaths--including Petty's fellow Rock and Roll Hall of Famers David Bowie, Prince, Leonard Cohen, Leon Russell, Gregg Allman, Chuck Berry, Walter Becker (of Steely Dan) and many others--the passing was shocking, and personally quite saddening, on many levels.

Including that it came just one week after Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers wrapped up their "40th Anniversary Tour" (in their 41st year) with the third of three shows at the Hollywood Bowl. This was also just over 3 months since I saw them pack Chicago's Wrigley Field on June 29.

But also, as noted above, Tom Petty's death Monday was on the same day the world learned that the night before, at a country music festival in Las Vegas, a man whose Mandalay Bay hotel room was a virtual armory shot nearly 600 people, killing--per the latest reports--59 and injuring 527.

This was the worst mass shooting in U.S. history, a record that will undoubtedly be broken, especially as nobody who can wants to do anything about gun control.

Compared to the massacre of people merely standing in a field listening to music, the passing of a rock star--even one as long & widely cherished as Petty--shouldn't bring the lion's share of tears and anguish.

Quite properly, his death isn't getting the same degree of coverage and headlines it would most days, and with that perspective, my sorrow over losing Petty--while great for reasons I will expound on below--is acutely proportionate.

But I have shared my devastation, grief and outrage about the terrorist act in Las Vegas through other forums and interactions, so will continue to focus this piece on Tom Petty and what he & his music mean to me.

I'm pretty sure I first became aware of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers around the late 1979 release of Damn the Torpedoes and its hit singles, "Refugee" and "Don't Do Me Like That."

I now know that their preceding albums--Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and You're Gonna Get It!--have some excellent material, but both came out before I was 10.

I was instantly and forever smitten by Damn the Torpedoes, and in 1981 when The Loop (WLUP) gave away all the tickets to Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers' Hard Promises concert at the Rosemont Horizon on June 17 as a radio station promotion, I waited at the FlipSide in Lincoln Village and got myself a pair.

Though I technically had sat through a Pablo Cruise performance as part of a family excursion to ChicagoFest the previous August, I count the June '81 Tom Petty show as my first rock concert.

Of now well over 700.

I was just 12 at the time, and my dad--who wasn't a rock lover, but valued contemporary culture enough to add Led Zeppelin, the Eagles, Bee Gees and more to our household record collection--took me to the show. He was 46, and far older than most of the crowd.

Interestingly, when I saw Petty this past June, at the age of 48 I was on the younger side.

I next saw TP&HBs in 1989 on the Full Moon Fever tour--another phenomenal album, one of three Petty would record without his erstwhile Heartbreakers--and when I moved to Los Angeles the next year, I not only lived near both Ventura Blvd. and Reseda, as mentioned in "Free Fallin'," I ventured to the Westside Pavilion strictly to stroll through the shopping mall where that song's video was largely shot.

I would see Petty & Co. a total of nine times over 36 years--obviously a longer span than for anyone else--including close up at Chicago's intimate Vic Theatre in 2003.

Quite admittedly, I didn't love Petty in concert as much as some other cherished acts--though in my 2005, 2010 and 2015 rankings of favorite musical artists I consistently have him in my Top 20--as he frequently frustrated me with rather staid setlist choices.

I'm pretty sure that in 1999, 2001, 2006 and 2008, I voiced much the same complaints that I wrote about in 2014 and this past June, mainly concerning Petty's unwillingness to dig as deep into his vaunted catalog as I would have liked.

Beloved early rockers of mine--"A Thing About You," "Change of Heart," "Straight Into Darkness" and others--were eschewed tour-after-tour, show-after-show for many of the same mid-tempo songs I didn't cherish nearly as much.

But while I don't hail Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers as a live act quite as highly as some others, the shows were never less than terrific. I loved the man, his music and his band enough to keep coming back and I awarded the Wrigley show @@@@1/2 (out of 5) even with many wished-for songs again left out.

So as would befit a guy who persevered through severely breaking his hand by smashing it against a recording studio wall, having his L.A. mansion destroyed by an arsonist, seeing a band member die from drug use--plus the usual ebbs & flows across nearly 50 years of making music, initially with a band called Mudcrutch, who he more recently reformed--I give Tom Petty huge props for doing what he wanted and doing it quite well. (And I can't deny "Mary Jane's Last Dance" is actually a great song.")

He was also extremely gracious onstage, profusely bestowing thanks for the crowd's applause after nearly every song, and--in keeping with a man who steadfastly fought to ensure his fans got good value--these were the acts I saw open for him:

The Replacements, Lucinda Williams, Jackson Browne, Pearl Jam, Steve Winwood (twice) and Chris Stapleton. (I can't recall or find who, if anyone, opened in 1981.)

Petty, whose laconic speaking voice belied a deceptively sharp wit, also features into one of my favorite rock anecdotes--and life lessons--of all time.

In 1979, at a No Nukes benefit concert at New York's Madison Square Garden, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers preceded local hero Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.

Petty came offstage incensed at the crowd's reaction and in an attempt to calm him, Jackson Browne told him, "Tom, they're not booing, they're yelling "Bruuuuuce!""

To which Tom purportedly retorted (perhaps without the profanity but I like it better this way):

"What's the fucking difference?"

Thank you, rest in peace and god bless, Thomas Earl Petty. You sure made a fucking difference in my life, and always will. 

---

The above admittedly doesn't much broach on how much I loved the music of Tom Petty, most often accompanied by the Heartbreakers, including Mike Campbell, Benmont Tench, Ron Blair and others over the years.

So I went to Spotify to make a playlist, gathering songs I knew and liked from each album. This isn't even quite comprehensive and there are 83. I first went through the Tom Petty solo albums and then the ones credited to Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, so the order is a bit random. 

Picturing the Most Beautiful Building in the World: My Photos of the Taj Mahal

For two weeks in August, I traveled to India.

On a tour with Gate 1 Travel, I visited Delhi, Jaipur, Abhaneri and Agra, and on my own ventured to Mumbai, then onto Bangalore where I stayed with friends and took a day trip to Mysore.

I provided on-the-go recaps and observations on my Seth the Tourist travel blog, complemented by photos posted to Facebook.

Theoretically I will eventually post an India travelogue on Seth Saith, but have been more so been putting available time to selecting, lightly editing and compiling photographs, out of nearly 20,000 taken.

So far, I have posted galleries of:
- Delhi
- Jaipur
- Abhaneri

I have since been working on Agra, which features some amazing sights in addition to the astonishing Taj Mahal. But I can now share my best photos of the Taj here.

The pictures on the grounds of the Taj Mahal were taken on Sunday, August 13, 2017 as part of the tour itinerary, and the next morning I took a private cab to take pix from across the Yamuna River in a garden known as Mehtab Bagh. I've also included one photo taken from the Agra Fort.

NBA superstar Kevin Durant posted this picture of the
Taj Mahal with significant scaffolding on July 29, 2017,
just 15 days before my visit.

Though I also used my iPhone 6s and a Canon SX600HS point-and-shoot, almost all the pictures here were taken with my Canon Rebel T3i digital SLR. (As you'll see, there were also a few photos taken of me.)

Not only was I blessed with clear weather, but in a year when the Taj has been largely scaffolded or partially covered due to cleaning and conservation efforts--with the possibility of major cloaking of the facade having prompted me to ponder putting off my trip--I was thrilled to find the Taj Mahal pristine, with not even a minaret shrouded in metal (as has pretty consistently been the case).

Photography of the the interior is largely forbidden, including of the tomb of Mumtaz Mahal--favorite wife of Mughal emperor Shah Jahan, upon whose death he had the Taj commissioned--that serves as its centerpiece. But I captured what I could.

There were many wonderful aspects of going to India, including traveling with a friend and a tour group, visiting longtime friends and seeing & photographing many phenomenal sights--and compelling people. Those stories will continued to be told, but strictly from a photographic sense, getting these pictures--culled from thousands more--was the highlight. Enjoy.

Fine Local Flavor: Well-Drawn 'Fun Home' Fits Wonderfully in a Smaller House -- Chicago Theater Review

Theater Review

Fun Home
Victory Gardens Theatre
at the Biograph, Chicago
Thru November 12
@@@@1/2

One of my great pleasures in life is traveling to New York City and--along with concerts, ballgames, museums, restaurants, bakeries, parks, historic landmarks, random strolling, etc.--going to Broadway shows in bunches.

I've done so several times this century, and while I've also taken in long-running classics and revivals, I have loved seeing shows such as Avenue Q, Wicked, Spring Awakening, Book of Mormon and many others early in their acclaimed Broadway runs.

A good number of musicals do "tryouts" in Chicago prior to moving to Broadway, and national tours bring almost everything that plays on Broadway to the Windy City not long thereafter. (To wit, this year's big, Tony-winning hit, Dear Evan Hansen, should be in Chicago by the end of 2018.)

Photo Credit on all: Liz Lauren

So it's not like those who don't get to NYC haven't the opportunity to see most of the best new shows, in Chicago or even the suburbs as several local self-producing venues stage recent musicals once they're licensed to go regional (as opposed to touring under the auspices of their original Broadway producers).

Still, I find it notable that since the last time I was in New York in March 2015, the musical Fun Home opened on Broadway, earned 12 Tony Award nominations, won five Tonys including Best New Musical, closed on Broadway, mounted a National Tour--that played Chicago in November 2016 and continued through last month--and is now being produced locally by the Victory Gardens Theater.

That's one of the fastest rides along the theatrical life-cycle I can recall, especially for such an acclaimed show.

But not only is Fun Home a musical that deserves to be seen, it is far better suited for smaller local venues--such as the beautifully renovated Biograph Theater that Victory Gardens calls home--than the cavernous downtown ones that tours typically play.

As per my Broadway in Chicago "Balcony Club" subscription, just 10½ months ago I saw Fun Home from the very upper reaches of the resplendent but vast Oriental Theatre, with a capacity of about 2,250.

Though not quite as much as some reviewers or musicals, I greatly enjoyed it, but in my review surmised that greater intimacy might enhance appreciation. (On Broadway, Fun Home ran in the 776-seat Circle in the Square, where about half the seats bracket the stage.)

In the 299-seat auditorium refurbished some years back for Victory Gardens--within the space where John Dillinger famously saw his last movie--Wednesday night I had a seat in the front row, center.

And while I am still bestowing @@@@1/2 as I did for the touring rendition, the proximity--and a stellar local cast under the direction of the routinely superb Gary Griffin--definitely added potency to an excellent but somewhat downbeat musical that frequently feels like a drama.

Based on cartoonist Alison Bechdel's 2006 graphic memoir of the same name, Fun Home centers around a 40-something Alison (terrifically embodied here by the consistently stellar Danni Smith) reflecting back on herself in childhood (played by an excellent Stella Rose Hoyt, alternating with Sage Elliott Harper) and as a college freshmen coming to embrace her gayness (Hannah Starr, also superb).

The bulk of the 90-minute show chronicles the past, including dramatized recollections of Alison's dad Bruce (Rob Lindley, who brings a physical and emotional frailty befitting the role), mother Helen (McKinley Carter, who I've often seen and liked) and brothers (Leo Gonzalez and Preetish Chakraborty).

Danielle Davis, as Alison's college girlfriend Joan is also quite good, as is Joe Lino, who plays several different yet similar young men who factor in ways I will leave for you to discover.

Many of the key narrative aspects of Fun Home aren't meant to be secrets--especially as Bechdel's autobiographical account was a best-seller--and most are revealed early on, but I don't see the need to give away much to the uninitiated.  

I will share that "Fun Home" is the kids' shorthand for the Pennsylvania funeral their father runs--along with being a high school English teacher and home restoration aficionado--and their imagining of a Jackson 5esque commercial for it, "Come to the Fun Home," makes for the musical's most ebullient moment.

With book & lyrics by Lisa Kron and music by Jeanine Tesori, this is about as far from a "tap dancing, robust chorus and flashy production numbers" Broadway musical as the genre gets.

Which is meant much more a compliment than a criticism, as musical theater should continue to extend its boundaries and--like Next to Normal before it, and seemingly Dear Evan Hanson now, though I've only listened to it--Fun Home offers more dramatic heft and poignancy than most musicals (and several plays, for that matter).

And with Tesori also the composer of Thoroughly Modern Millie and other acclaimed shows, there are several splendid songs, including "Ring of Keys" (wonderfully delivered by Hoyt as Small Alison at the performance I attended), "Changing My Major" (a showpiece for Starr as Medium Alison), "Days and Days" (beautifully wrought by Carter as the steadfast wife and mother) and "Telephone Wire," on which Smith shines as the older Alison late in the show.

But though Fun Home once again moved me considerably--and even more so from a far closer vantage point--its relative sparsity of scintillating showtunes likely helps account for why I love it a bit less than my very favorite musicals.

Having now seen the other nominees for the 2015 Best New Musical Tony Award--An American in Paris, Something Rotten! and The Visit, though only the latter on Broadway--I would concur with it meriting the award, even if I might not against competition from other years.

But it's to the considerable credit of Victory Gardens--long one of Chicago's most storied theater companies but not one I've patronized all that often--that it is not only staging its own production of Fun Home so shortly after the Broadway run and first national tour, but seemingly is doing it every bit as well (as far as I could discern or recall from the Equity tour).

...in a far more intimate and appropriate home.

...with tickets starting at just $29 through the box office and discounts available through HotTix, Goldstar and TodayTix.

As such, whether you unabashedly love musicals or are more typically drawn to dramas, this is a Home I highly recommend you visit.

A Sonic Blast: The Afghan Whigs Blanket the Metro With Solid Rock -- Chicago Concert Review

Concert Review

The Afghan Whigs

w/ opening act Har Mar Superstar 

Metro, Chicago

September 23 (also played 9/22)

@@@@

Before I went to see the Afghan Whigs Saturday night at Metro, I had heard good things about them--and from them.

But though they've existed since the late-'80s--albeit with a 10-year breakup--I had never been a fan, and knew almost none of their music.

Yet in 2014 when I last attended Riot Fest in Chicago, while waiting to see Paul Weller at a different stage I marveled at how thunderous the Afghan Whigs sounded from across a giant field.

I resolved to see them one day, ideally at an indoor, headlining gig, and though a few Spotify attempts never quite hooked me on their recorded material, I was happy to get reasonably-priced tickets--and the Metro's assurance of a balcony seat--to properly check them out with my friend Brad.

I'm glad I did and I enjoyed the show. But I admittedly can't provide much in the way of critical analysis as I--other than vague familiarity with a few--recognized none of the songs played, didn't long for any songs not played and can't say how this show (or the current iteration of the Whigs) compares to past ones.

Despite my general obliviousness about the band's music, I have long been aware that the Afghan Whigs hailed from Cincinnati, with Greg Dulli as their lead singer and guitarist.

Wikipedia fills in that bassist John Curley is another founding member seemingly still active, and I had noted the passing earlier this year of guitarist Dave Rosser, a veteran musician who had played with the band since 2014, so presumably at Riot Fest.

I can't identify the other guitarist, keyboardist and drummer onstage with Dulli and presumably Curley on Saturday--the second of two nights at Metro--but the band sounded tight and powerful, if not as brain-crushingly loud as I expected based on the Riot Fest volume.

Per Setlist.fm, I now know that a third of the 21 songs played across 100 minutes came from the Afghan Whigs' new album--In Spades--with another three taken from their other post-reunion release, 2014's Do to the Beast.

Only one--"Fountain and Fairfax"--came from 1993's Gentlemen, which Brad considers the band's best and best-known record.

That song was one I noted as sounding particularly great, along with the new "Arabian Nights" and, from the prior album, "Matamoras."

But I liked pretty much everything I heard, including a sweet cover of the Beatles' "Dear Prudence," on which Dulli played piano.

He had done likewise following a brief tirade against a main floor fan who had irked him with her cell phone and then her middle finger, but on "Demon in Profile" the opening act, Har Mar Superstar, did the singing.

Far be it from me to knock anyone for their physical appearance or choice of clothing, but in sharing the stage with the Whigs, I think Har Mar did well to adorn a shirt, as opposed to much of his musically-enjoyable performance as the opener. (My gut is even bigger than his, but I doubt anyone needs to see it raw onstage, complemented solely by multi-hued leggings.)

Dulli was in strong voice all night, and in addition to repeatedly expressing sorrow over Rosser, he fondly recalled personal interactions with Charles Bradley, a renowned soul singer who had passed earlier on Saturday.

I can't put this down as one of the best concerts I've seen--even just in 2017--or quite matching the previous glimpse of the Afghan Whigs that has remained a happy (but vague, in terms of particular songs) memory.

My lack of familiarity with the music played Saturday certainly may have hindered some of my enjoyment, but with the band mixing up setlists quite a bit--8 different songs were played Friday--I didn't know how to focus any pre-show Spotifamiliarization, and what I had listened to on Spotify still didn't dazzle me.

So I candidly wouldn't be qualified to review this Afghan Whigs show for an actual publication, but not only did I enjoy their performance, I valued the atypical experience of seeing a band in concert with scant point of reference.

For what it's worth, Brad--who had seen two prior Whigs gigs plus the Riot Fest barrage, and well-knows Gentlemen and more--also found the show terrific but a tad lesser than previous ones due to the preponderance of newer, unknown material.

I can't recall or readily find specific sources, but believe I had read that In Spades--and even Do to the Beast--represents considerable stylistic variance from the Afghan Whigs' music prior to the 2001 breakup.

As hopefully already well-noted, I thought the band sounded great and rocked hard, but it's possible that even for hardcore, longtime fans--and the Metro was sold out and raucous--there were ways this concert wouldn't quite be comparable to those of 20 years ago.

Or even 3.

And maybe I might have loved hearing quite a bit more from Gentlemen, Congregation or 1965--all highly-rated by AllMusic.com but represented by one song each.

But for my first night of truly Whigging out, I can truly say I have no complaints to accompany a considerable amount of pleasure.

Pithy Philosophies #36

Seth Saith:

We attack what we don't try to understand.

More Than Fun: Humorously & Poignantly Debunking Presumptions, 'The Legend of Georgia McBride' Is Never a Drag -- Chicago Theater Review

Theater Review

The Legend of Georgia McBridge
a recent play by Matthew Lopez
directed by Lauren Shouse
Northlight Theatre, Skokie, IL
Thru October 22
@@@@1/2

Theater, at it best, not only shrewdly reflects our world, it shines new light--while affecting our way of thinking.

While the relatively new and rather comedic, The Legend of Georgia McBride, by Matthew Lopez may seem entirely disparate from the last play I saw--a stark take on Arthur Miller's classic drama, A View From the Bridge--I found congruent potency and resonance in both.

The brilliant, intense staging of the latter at Chicago's Goodman Theatre--see my review here--reiterated my belief that one's own frailties, foibles, fears and frustrations should not manifest in the hatred, demonizing or victimization of others.

And in providing a glimpse into the world of drag queens--which the show's straight, married, southern protagonist unsuspectingly joins in the guise of the title character--the often LOL funny Legend of Georgia McBride powerfully reaffirms the folly of making assumptions about anyone we don't know (or even those we do).

Playwright Lopez, whose The Whipping Man I very much enjoyed at Northlight in 2013, demonstrates his dexterity with a play far different from that intense post-Civil War drama about slaves and Southern Jews, although both works reflect well on the impropriety of preconceived notions.

And though the premise of The Legend of Georgia McBride isn't quite as unique as that past play--many viewers may conjure up "La Cage Aux Folles," "Kinky Boots," "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert," "The Full Monty" and other such musicals, though this technically isn't one--not only is it uproariously funny and rather touching, Lopez' fine script renders comparisons (and questions of originality) largely moot.

And though there are some imperfect aspects--including, perhaps, the depth with which he explores the world of drag and practitioners of it--I found it one of the better new plays I've seen in awhile.

Given a raucous, instant standing ovation, the audience on opening night seemed to agree.

As The Legend of Georgia McBride opens, Casey (an excellent Nate Santana) is working as an Elvis impersonator--though a bit too young and fit to be convincing in a "Fat Elvis" jumpsuit--at, perhaps not coincidentally, a Panama City, Florida nightclub that is having trouble attracting patrons.

Before the club's shlubby owner, Eddie (an ever-reliable Keith Kupferer) has a chance to tell Casey about a change in direction, a pair of drag queens appear to take over as the new nightly entertainment.

As Miss Tracy Mills, Sean Blake--who made for a fantastic Sammy Davis Jr. a couple years ago--is likewise superb here, while Jeff Kurysz nicely splits his stage time between drag queen Rexy and (as a separate character) friend & landlord to Casey and his wife Jo (Leslie Ann Sheppard, rather likable in an underwritten role).

In truth, not much happens in The Legend of Georgia McBride that you don't see coming:

Casey is pissed at losing his Elvis gig, gets unexpectedly enlisted for an initial appearance in drag over his objections, becomes much better & accepting of it and keeps his new, well-paying job under wraps (so to speak).

Casey's secretiveness even well after warming to performing as Georgia McBride--his state of birth + the surname of the first person he kissed--makes for somewhat hackneyed interaction with Jo, who the script forces to react in ways unceremoniously akin to many a character learning of another's secret pursuits.

Though I think Lauren Shouse does a nice job directing this one-act piece, the need to juxtapose several drag numbers--as Kupferer's Eddie notes the passage of time in knowingly hammy holiday outfits--sacrifices some narrative depth for overt entertainment value, with Santana, Blake and Kurysz each delivering fine performances referencing Edith Piaf, Madonna, Tina Turner, Shania Twain and many others. (The recorded musical selections add much to the enjoyment.)

The Legend of Georgia McBride has already run regionally and off-Broadway to some acclaim, but it's possible considerable improvements can be made, particularly with the character of Jo and some continuity & plausibility concerns. 

Not that I would assume all drag queens--which the show's program defines as those "who perform femininity theatrically"--to be homosexual, but Lopez (who happens to be gay) makes for some interesting twists by having Casey be straight.

While adroitly learning how to squeeze into the trappings of faux womanhood, he has some nice discussions with Tracy and Rexy--who are gay--about drag personas, his playing a role vs. their (sadly) assault-inducing realities and the repercussions of hiding, finding and revealing one's true self.

While I can see how my synopsis, with some critiquing of the play's flaws, may seemingly not quite add up to a @@@@1/2 rating, what I can't give proper justice to in writing is just how funny the show often is--I'm not one to laugh out loud much, and I did--and how delightfully many of the drag performances are delivered.

Whatever The Legend of Georgia McBride's imperfections, it thoroughly entertained me and had genuine impact on my way of thinking.

Like great theater should.