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Behold the energy of youth: naïve or knowing; bursting with joy or bursting with frustration—or just bursting into song; singing of hoping, moping or just coping, Hair is forever young in a Broadway revival. And other Broadway stars raise voices and awareness for a youth charity project with original songs written by the organization's own young members. Lastly, a look back at a music star who's now 82, back in his youth—at age 22.
It's jam-packed: a 37-track CD full of flower power and some solid theatrical power. Sure, I generally had a very good time listening to the new version of Hair, and there is infectious cheer that made it difficult not to smile during most of the songs. Certainly there is a major celebrational aspect to this show and much of it feels like a big, perky, percolating pop party. But, dare I be a party pooper if I can't help but wonder if it seems that, with some notable exceptions, they might have gone for de-fanged enthusiasm where some gritty, gutsy feel would be in order? I enjoy the joy, but can one be feisty and chipper? It's a pick-me-up, and I encourage theatre fans to pick it up, but with the understanding that this is the version of many versions of Hair where they really let the sunshine in. The setting is a time of rebellion, challenging authority, questioning oneself and taking a strong political stance—epitomized by burning draft cards. Damn the consequences and full speed ahead. But when the crowd is chanting "Burn it! Burn it! Burn it!" it sounds more like a bunch of happy grade school kids playing a rather harmless game. Likewise, songs that might burn with more anger or indignation kind of sparkle and leave a warm, bright glow. Caissie Levy's "Easy to be Hard" is strongly sung, admirably so, with some creatively fresh phrasing, but not quite as wrenching an indictment as it can be. A few other solos, like "Frank Mills" come off as much charming as cute. A few short pieces not on all versions of Hair will be duly noted and appreciated by collectors, though none is a major revelation. (Nevertheless, they are well worth hearing and having—what Hair maven would want to give up "Give Up All Desires" or the other snips of Hair?) Yes, I wanted it all to be more unsettling and with more exposed nerves. But on the plus side, they kick it up several notches in the second act—and throughout, there are fine vocal performances and crisp ensemble work. The strong dose of reality (and the nightmare of a drug hallucination that brings it out) is well done: the insanity of war, especially a controversial one, hits home. And of course, it is, alas, all too relevant to the last several years. "3-5-0-0" has real dramatic power, like the theatrical punch in the stomach. The cathartic release and optimism that end the show are thus more impactful, with the reprise of the title song a nice, welcome blast of fresh air. Those belatedly/newly rocking to its score and those who are old enough to view Hair and its topics of Vietnam War protests, hippies and the sexual revolution as "nostalgic" should agree on one thing: the newest cast sounds fresh and energetic and committed. By and large, they sing well and present distinct and varied characters. Gavin Creel's clear and bright voice in the role of Claude is a real pleasure to hear. Exuding joy and some sensitivity, good spirits bouncing off him, he's a terrific asset. Will Swenson is likeable Berger, playful and rather irrepressible, though without much edge or biting into the rebel-with-a-cause possibilities. Sasha Allen, with her vibrant and powerful voice leading "Aquarius" and standing out in other numbers, brings dynamism and impressive chops, turning up the heat quite a bit. Being entrenched in the '60s musically (a little psychedelic, a little Motown) comes with the territory just as much as the references of Vietnam War prisoners and protestors, love beads, President Johnson and Timothy Leary. The musical accompaniment is a mixed bag, sometimes full of new kick and at other times seeming a bit too pat or polished or busy. Raw? Not so much. But often it's got bite and sparkle and is evocative, with quite a bit of variety in the musical sounds. This is especially impressive with a rather small ensemble of 13 players. Note the presence of those with long histories with the show's composer and the piece, from his own New Pulse Band: drummer Bernard Purdie met him in 1964, woodwinds player Allen Won was a sub in the Hair band at age 17, and there's bassist Wilbur Bacomb, not to mention the composer's trombone-playing son Vincent MacDermot, in his band for thirty years! There's often quite a lot of musical "juice," with some unexpected little musical figures along the way, not quite a by-the-numbers version; some of it sounds surprisingly modern or timeline generic rather than screaming 1960s rock-pop. The recording is thoroughly professional in all ways, with the excellent sound quality and overall care we've come to expect from Ghostlight Records/ Sh-K-Boom (who also put out the very well-done 2004 concert cast recording) and their producers Joel Moss and Kurt Deutsch, with RCA veteran Bill Rosenfeld back as executive producer. There's a thick booklet included and since the diction here is quite good, it's not much of an issue that they didn't give it over to the James Rado/Gerome Ragni lyrics as often happens. Instead, there are a couple of short essays about the past and present Hairs and lots of color photos from this production, the cast draped in jeans and loose skirts, love beads and beaming smiles.
Our Time, a special organization that is a safe haven for kids and teens who stutter—and has its own camp and theatre programs for them—has attracted the attention and participation of some stars from musical theatre and pop music. Coming through with their first CD project, the young organization members (mostly between the ages of 14 and 18) have written 15 songs that are earnest, plain or plaintive, often specifically addressing being ostracized, being given a hard time or being given hope. Though the celebrities take center stage on most tracks, the kids are very much present: sometimes as an accompanying or background chorus, and in a few cases taking the main spotlight. Some of this endeavor tested my patience and some warmed my heart. Some listeners may occasionally feel like they're experiencing a school talent show, albeit with some real solid ringers doing the heavy lifting. And the going can get heavy, emotionally. It is what it is: real feelings of real adolescents, take it or leave it. The stars dive in with great integrity and sympathy, gamely making the best of the kid writers' rougher moments and finessing them. Three Rent original cast members are on board: Daphne Rubin-Vega in the entreaty to "Let Go of the Past," convincingly and supportively sung; Adam Pascal and an invitation to the "Perfect Place" of musical and human harmony; and Anthony Rapp, with effective dramatic moments in "What We Have to Say." Note that with Rapp, we also get rap—sort of. There's a "poem" in the middle, a series of "Who says I can't ..." nose-snubbing statements. The album has several instances of expressing things in hip-hop/rap style and contemporary R&B. If you're not a fan of these musical genres, you may find some chunks of this project resistible, but it may be easier to take in smallish doses, laced with positive messages and understandable expressions of young worries, all devoid of vulgarities or spitting hostility. "Breathe In" features Mandy Patinkin, in a rush of positive vibes, going into his familiar high voice in the latter part of the track. Other theatre notables share their featured spots in rewarding pairings, with more songs that may include some woes but morph into assertively upbeat messages: Michael Cerveris and Kelli O'Hara for the effective and sincere "Listen to Your Heart;" Sherie Rene Scott and Norm Lewis similarly succeeding with the anthem "Carry On"; and a bit of good-natured spotlight-basking from Adriane Lenox and Mary Testa, "Flaunt It." Despite the large-scaled emotions, the stars tend to be the stand-ins for their teen writers, with restraint more the order of the day. It's interesting to have a blast from the past pop charts with Hall and Oates singing of youthful worries ("Nothing in This World"). Also notable is Carly Simon, singing with open heart in her instantly recognizable voice and suitable to her confessional persona, "You Don't Know Hurt." (It's interesting that she contributes a few lines in the booklet, to present her personal connection: that she stuttered herself for years in her own childhood.) The songs, viewed with perspective and affection, have some appeal. Naturally, there are limits in perspective and polish, but the songs can be disarming and perhaps refreshing in their directness if one is willing to be somewhat forgiving/realistic in expectations. Songs tend to show their hands and peak early, with the latter sections becoming rather repetitive in exact lyric content or paraphrasing the same ideas. Despite this, it's tough to not be touched by the real feel of the experiences and be buoyed by the sense that, at least through the Our Time program (sometimes directly referenced in the lyrics), they've been given resilience and life lessons. Certainly there's positive energy abounding. One lovely holiday from the cares and woes, and absent of any homily or message, is the dreamlike fantasy of a trippy trip to "Booyaland" where "imagination takes you wherever you want to go," a place with "yellow trees with polka dots" and "rainbow creatures very nice." Very nice work written by two girls who are just 10 and 11 years old (Julianna Padilla and Victoria Perlman—brava!). It's sung dreamily by Ann Hampton Callaway. Her castmate from Swing!, Everett Bradley, is one of the producers and multi-tasks as vocalist, percussionist, and (with co-producer Gregg Parratto) some keyboards and programming. Theatre fans of the singers will find some things to like here and those looking for life-affirming (but not sugar-coated) messages to spur on youth with challenges have come to the right place. For more information on the program, see their website, www.ourtimetheatre.org. Would it be too much to hope that, since Our Time focuses on theatre programs and performance, a follow-up project might find some theatre writers to mentor the kids in their writing and steer them in a more specifically musical theatre (non-pop) songwriting style? In any case, Listen is worth a listen, if only to make us sensitized to the problems and hopes that stutterers have and to realize that their hopes and concerns are, at the end of the day, quite universal. And from the vaults ...
Once upon a time—sixty years ago, to be precise— 22-year-old Harry Belafonte made a handful of single records for the Capitol Records label. They let him get away, and several years later he found great success on RCA as one of their big record stars, singing popularized calypso-style songs, notably, later branching out to include a wider swath of folk music, standards and some memorable recordings of show tunes over the years. DRG has procured the rights to this handful of very early tracks (though they have appeared in various collections on CD in the past). They have paired the eight selections with the one full-length album recorded by Lord Flea and his Calypsonians (plus two extra tracks from this group). Though Belafonte was early and forever associated with the calypso and West Indian music, his tracks here are actually not in that vein at all. The one musical theatre selection included is Jerome Kern's first big success, "They Didn't Believe Me," with Belafonte caressing the lovely melody and the romantic lyric by Herbert Reynolds. Wide-eyed, breathless joy in delighted, requited love is quite believable and suitably full of youthful love-worship, floating on a string-laden orchestra. It's a gem. Arranger-producer Pete Rugolo, who became more well-known for jazzier charts, plays this one straight and lush, the ultimate theatre ballad treated with utmost respect. Belafonte would later appear in the theatre, earning a Tony Award as supporting actor for John Murray Anderson's Almanac, and he appeared with Marge and Gower Champion in Three for Tonight—both were revues (he was also in the film version of Carmen Jones, his singing voice was dubbed). Other tracks include the perennial love ballad "Close Your Eyes" and a few in the folk music idiom, with a respectable and elegant reading of the lament "Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child." These are closer to the Belafonte we'd come to know, with two songs with famous literary titles, "Farewell to Arms" and "How Green Was My Valley" both bittersweet and formal in style and interpretation. In the more pop selections, he seems to be aping stylists of the day quite self-consciously, having not quite yet found his performer identity. Sometimes high-voiced and callow-sounding, at other times instantly suggesting deep-voiced balladeer Billy Eckstine (as the liner notes rightly remark), it's interesting to hear the singer trying to find his personality. "Whispering" has a bit of an identity disorder, with the arrangement clinging to and asserting its jazz big band origins—especially in the long instrumental section—with the singer seeming to stick to his serious romantic guns. Nevertheless, there's some beautiful and graceful singing here from a the star in the making. Lord Flea was born Norman Thomas in Jamaica, from where New York City-born Belafonte's parents hailed and where he spent part of his childhood. The liner notes by the ever-informative and perspective-giving musicologist Will Friedwald explain that the Calypso music of Trinidad was often confused/mislabeled when much of what we have here is similar in feel but was more accurately called Mento and was centered in Jamaica. These 14 tracks are mostly lighthearted and lively, some quite playful, the lyrics delivered with a wink. Flea was vocal soloist and guitarist and his band consisted of three percussionists, a banjo player and a guy playing the washboard bass, with group vocals. (The recordings are from 1957 when the leader was 25—he died very young, just two years later.) This snapshot of world music history has a bright, breezy and commercial feel. Emphasis is on lively, light tunes, all in small doses (playing times between 2:05 to 2:39). Ingratiating, almost relentlessly perky, on the cute side, easy-breezy fun, the happy-go-lucky little romps concern themselves with dancing and music ("Calypso Be-Bop"), animals ("Donkey Bray" and a pesky "Monkey") and, of course, love ("Love"). Even the complaint about the nosy landlady who doesn't provide basic services and who is "the worst thing I ever had" in the song "Mister, Pay Me the Rent" is no cause to fret. It's all plucky and banjo-plucking solos. Those who know Belafonte's work will recognize the flavors and attitudes; indeed, he performed some of the songs. Originals are mixed with traditional island songs. This is smile-inducing music, and there's nothing wrong with that.
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HAIR
LISTEN:
HARRY BELAFONTE
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