Not the Same Old Song and Dance

I'll make this quick.

A couple of nights ago, my wife and I got dressed up and braved the tourist-inundated nightmare of Broadway to finally see Spring Awakening.

The show won several Tonys this past year, including best musical; among its claims to fame are the unusual style of its music (all written by the brilliant Duncan Sheik and his occasional co-writer Steven Sater) and its brash subject matter (all sex, sex and more sex).

Suffice to say, the hype is true: the show is absolutely fantastic. I'm damn picky about musicals (loved Cabaret, Chicago and Wicked -- wanted to claw my eyes out at Mamma Mia) and this is the first one I've been to that was more like a concert than a Broadway show. I knew many of the songs going into it, and basically couldn't wipe the stupid grin off my face when I finally heard them live. How can you not love a show which features musical numbers with titles like "The Bitch of Living" and "Totally Fucked" -- as well as gorgeous pieces like "The Guilty Ones" and "Song of Purple Summer?"


In particular, Lauren Pritchard is a revelation. Hearing her breathy, husky, yet completely vulnerable and feminine voice is like sinking into a warm and luxurious bath -- or having a little girl cup her hands around your ears while leaning in to tell you a secret. It's that life-affirming.

Why am I bringing all of this up?

Just as a reminder that the next time you're in New York City, please do yourself and the rest of us a favor and skip whatever unadulterated crap Disney is pushing on Broadway, or whichever third-rate movie has been turned into a bombastically kitschy musical -- Legally Blonde and fucking Xanadu are now legitimate shows for Christ's sake -- and go see something with original music and real talent.

I'll owe you one.










While dressed up and on the town -- in Times Square and at Sardi's -- Jayne and I snapped a few pictures of each other, just to prove that we clean up good.