and I do NOT know why but this finds its way into every photo shoot...
Monday, December 15, 2008
intermission...
It has been a while, and I finally have a new post in the works for this blog, but I am waiting on some pictures from Saturday's gig, so in the meantime, may I present for your oohing and awing pleasure: La Mademoiselle Gwendolyn!
and I do NOT know why but this finds its way into every photo shoot...
and I do NOT know why but this finds its way into every photo shoot...
Sunday, September 21, 2008
IKE BITES
The official word is that the theatre was destroyed by at least 6-8 feet of water. it is covered in mud and sludge and gross stuff. It stinks and mold and mildew are setting in already. There is not any money to cover what the insurance company cant fix, and of course, there will not be time to fix anything before the West Side Story Revival on Broadway goes up this season, which will make our performance illegal.
Thus, it is over. Ike wins.
Thus, it is over. Ike wins.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Week Two, Anita Three
The second week of rehearsals for West Side Story has wrapped up and the cast is ALMOST complete.
We are on our third Anita; this one will stick I think. She owns the confident sexuality inherent in the character, even though she looks pretty sweet here...
Bernardo has been cast...yes, he is very pretty.
This week held the first musical rehearsal of the ensemble number "Tonight," which meant everyone (well, almost everyone) was in the same room for the first time since the table reading. The cast is full of wise guys. Not that I would REALLY know one...
Riff and A-Rab are definitely our cast clowns, followed closely by Action, and maybe Maria...
There is a wonderful dynamic between all the cast members thus far. Most of the company know each other already from previous shows, which makes for a relaxed atmosphere.
And even those of us who are new to the bunch seem to be getting along quite naturally...
The theatre itself radiated with an inviting glow from day one. There is something comforting and homey about this old corner building on The Strand.
yes I shopped these a bit for fun...
The scaffolding across the street is The Grand, Galveston's Opera House. It is getting a much needed facelift apparently. I am planning a future post about Galveston and The Grand and how I feel about THAT hot mess...but I digress...
The rehearsal room, (there is more upstairs, but I haven't been up there yet) which doubles as the lobby is warm and welcoming.
Framed posters from all the past productions adorn the wall above the mirrors; an impressive line up for such a small company. They have tackled some great shows in their brief run. I hope they are able to generate enough revenue to keep at it all. No one in Houston is doing as many beloved and important and crazy and difficult musicals as Island etc.
This show will certainly have its challenges. The stage is tiny, we are still short a Shark guy or two, the cast is full of younger college-aged kids, and three of the five leads drive from Houston every night for rehearsal. But I have high hopes for this hodge podge of people and experience levels. Perhaps we will "put on a show" after all. So long as Orrie keeps his grubby paws off my camera. Punk.
We are on our third Anita; this one will stick I think. She owns the confident sexuality inherent in the character, even though she looks pretty sweet here...
Bernardo has been cast...yes, he is very pretty.
This week held the first musical rehearsal of the ensemble number "Tonight," which meant everyone (well, almost everyone) was in the same room for the first time since the table reading. The cast is full of wise guys. Not that I would REALLY know one...
Riff and A-Rab are definitely our cast clowns, followed closely by Action, and maybe Maria...
There is a wonderful dynamic between all the cast members thus far. Most of the company know each other already from previous shows, which makes for a relaxed atmosphere.
And even those of us who are new to the bunch seem to be getting along quite naturally...
The theatre itself radiated with an inviting glow from day one. There is something comforting and homey about this old corner building on The Strand.
yes I shopped these a bit for fun...
The scaffolding across the street is The Grand, Galveston's Opera House. It is getting a much needed facelift apparently. I am planning a future post about Galveston and The Grand and how I feel about THAT hot mess...but I digress...
The rehearsal room, (there is more upstairs, but I haven't been up there yet) which doubles as the lobby is warm and welcoming.
Framed posters from all the past productions adorn the wall above the mirrors; an impressive line up for such a small company. They have tackled some great shows in their brief run. I hope they are able to generate enough revenue to keep at it all. No one in Houston is doing as many beloved and important and crazy and difficult musicals as Island etc.
This show will certainly have its challenges. The stage is tiny, we are still short a Shark guy or two, the cast is full of younger college-aged kids, and three of the five leads drive from Houston every night for rehearsal. But I have high hopes for this hodge podge of people and experience levels. Perhaps we will "put on a show" after all. So long as Orrie keeps his grubby paws off my camera. Punk.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Bits and Pieces
Rehearsals for West Side Story began this past Sunday. I only have a few random thoughts to share thus far, so in the spirit of Diesel's Sock Drawer, here goes:
***********
Galveston isn't that far. With 5 o' clock traffic it really only takes about an hour if I take the Beltway. Of course, this costs me three extra dollars, (I don't take it on the return trip since it is 11 pm and there is no traffic on the Loop) which doesn't sound like much, but when you consider the fact that from first rehearsal to closing night there are officially 53 dates on the schedule, that's $159 bucks, which might be the entire paycheck I will receive for this gig.
***********
That's right, I still have no clue what the company is paying me for almost a quarter of my year spent in rehearsals and performances. The current minimum wage is $6.55, so at that rate, I am looking at a little more than $1000. WOW! If I made that much every 12 weeks, I would be in that illustrious category of sub-poverty. Nice.
***********
Of course I am not doing this for the money. If I were looking for the most lucrative thing I could do with my acting skills I would turn to prostitution. This is merely paying my dues. Taking the low paying gig in a different city at a relatively new theatre company is part of the process. Most do it in college or instead of college. In all honesty I am happy to be back on the stage, period. I needed to reassure myself that I could do this, that I love doing this, and that I am damn good at this.
***********
I do believe WSS is one of those shows that needn't call in the principles until a few weeks before tech week. We don't dance in the ensemble numbers, we sing mostly with each other or alone, and the music itself is fairly simple. I know the orchestral score is a monster, but the vocal parts are written well, and are in fact relatively simple. There is one tricky duet Maria has with Anita, but really, Devin (Tony) and I are both ready for a rehearsal pianist. We have no need to "learn" our notes and rhythms the way the rest of the cast may. We read music. Well. Time to start memorizing and staging! Maybe soon.
***********
It is a little lonely playing the leads. The rest of the cast is already forming relationships, and Devin and I haven't even been in the same room with most of them since the table reading. Most of them seem pretty nice and possibly interesting. I hope I will get the opportunity to make friends soon!
************
I wish I had the voice and dancing chops to play Anita. As we lost our Anita to a move the day after the reading, I got to sing her part in the ensemble rehearsals for "America." I identify with her character so much more, but my voice just sounds silly singing her lines. *sigh* Always the ingenue, never the sarcastic wench.
************
Devin is disgustingly able to do this roll. That is all I can say right now without spitting venom and profanity about the unfairness of it all. More later, but for now know that he is a vocal teacher's dream student, retaining and utilizing all minutiae immediately and perfectly. Grumblegrumblegrumble...
***********
I will be taking my camera to rehearsal from now on, and trying to capture some of what is going on. I love the creative process of producing a show in all its anxiety ridden glory. I hope to catch some of it on film. If I could only figure out how to use my stupid camera in low light! ugh!
***********
Galveston isn't that far. With 5 o' clock traffic it really only takes about an hour if I take the Beltway. Of course, this costs me three extra dollars, (I don't take it on the return trip since it is 11 pm and there is no traffic on the Loop) which doesn't sound like much, but when you consider the fact that from first rehearsal to closing night there are officially 53 dates on the schedule, that's $159 bucks, which might be the entire paycheck I will receive for this gig.
***********
That's right, I still have no clue what the company is paying me for almost a quarter of my year spent in rehearsals and performances. The current minimum wage is $6.55, so at that rate, I am looking at a little more than $1000. WOW! If I made that much every 12 weeks, I would be in that illustrious category of sub-poverty. Nice.
***********
Of course I am not doing this for the money. If I were looking for the most lucrative thing I could do with my acting skills I would turn to prostitution. This is merely paying my dues. Taking the low paying gig in a different city at a relatively new theatre company is part of the process. Most do it in college or instead of college. In all honesty I am happy to be back on the stage, period. I needed to reassure myself that I could do this, that I love doing this, and that I am damn good at this.
***********
I do believe WSS is one of those shows that needn't call in the principles until a few weeks before tech week. We don't dance in the ensemble numbers, we sing mostly with each other or alone, and the music itself is fairly simple. I know the orchestral score is a monster, but the vocal parts are written well, and are in fact relatively simple. There is one tricky duet Maria has with Anita, but really, Devin (Tony) and I are both ready for a rehearsal pianist. We have no need to "learn" our notes and rhythms the way the rest of the cast may. We read music. Well. Time to start memorizing and staging! Maybe soon.
***********
It is a little lonely playing the leads. The rest of the cast is already forming relationships, and Devin and I haven't even been in the same room with most of them since the table reading. Most of them seem pretty nice and possibly interesting. I hope I will get the opportunity to make friends soon!
************
I wish I had the voice and dancing chops to play Anita. As we lost our Anita to a move the day after the reading, I got to sing her part in the ensemble rehearsals for "America." I identify with her character so much more, but my voice just sounds silly singing her lines. *sigh* Always the ingenue, never the sarcastic wench.
************
Devin is disgustingly able to do this roll. That is all I can say right now without spitting venom and profanity about the unfairness of it all. More later, but for now know that he is a vocal teacher's dream student, retaining and utilizing all minutiae immediately and perfectly. Grumblegrumblegrumble...
***********
I will be taking my camera to rehearsal from now on, and trying to capture some of what is going on. I love the creative process of producing a show in all its anxiety ridden glory. I hope to catch some of it on film. If I could only figure out how to use my stupid camera in low light! ugh!
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Completely unrelated to anything about the stage whatsoever
I talk a lot about how much I loathe my cats.
I am fundamentally a dog person. I was raised with dogs until I was a teenager. We had one outdoor gypsy cat for a while in the country affectionately dubbed Miss Kitty, but she was more dog like than anything, meeting the car at the end of the driveway and escorting us in--so she doesn't count really. I digress...
Cats, especially the indoor variety (which I feel is the only responsible way to own a cat in the city) are obnoxious and gross. Litter boxes are foul beyond belief, and the cats themselves tend to be annoying in their mere existence. They have their own ideas about when and how you should pay attention to them. Mine are particularly rude about meal time. Like I have EVER failed to feed them.
But, cats are much easier to deal with as an apartment dweller that is rarely home. And I love animals so much that life without any would be somewhat empty for me. So I put up with the cats that I didn't particularly want in the first place, and sometimes, their annoying idiosyncrasies are enough to make me stop what I am doing and love on them with all the warmth I actually feel toward them deep down. (Like baking, I cannot let everyone know I enjoy it: that is showing a weakness...oh, wait, I just...DAMN! Well NOW you know!)
So the past few days The Black One has suddenly become social again (she has been a Kitty Teenager for the past few years, really: moody, antisocial, unpredictable, and hungry) and THIS is what I see everytime i sit down at my computer to work:
I can't even handle the cuteness that is this cat! I can't even handle the fact that I just wrote that sentence! She was quite the affectionate lover kitty when we brought her home, and its kinda nice to have her back in this form...even if she does keep rubbing up against my screen and covering my keyboard with her filthy dander fur...Blch.
In other cuteness:
and
and
and
and she is only "free"
Heaven help me, but I'm pretty sure she's gonna take after her Mother...
Just a hunch.
I am fundamentally a dog person. I was raised with dogs until I was a teenager. We had one outdoor gypsy cat for a while in the country affectionately dubbed Miss Kitty, but she was more dog like than anything, meeting the car at the end of the driveway and escorting us in--so she doesn't count really. I digress...
Cats, especially the indoor variety (which I feel is the only responsible way to own a cat in the city) are obnoxious and gross. Litter boxes are foul beyond belief, and the cats themselves tend to be annoying in their mere existence. They have their own ideas about when and how you should pay attention to them. Mine are particularly rude about meal time. Like I have EVER failed to feed them.
But, cats are much easier to deal with as an apartment dweller that is rarely home. And I love animals so much that life without any would be somewhat empty for me. So I put up with the cats that I didn't particularly want in the first place, and sometimes, their annoying idiosyncrasies are enough to make me stop what I am doing and love on them with all the warmth I actually feel toward them deep down. (Like baking, I cannot let everyone know I enjoy it: that is showing a weakness...oh, wait, I just...DAMN! Well NOW you know!)
So the past few days The Black One has suddenly become social again (she has been a Kitty Teenager for the past few years, really: moody, antisocial, unpredictable, and hungry) and THIS is what I see everytime i sit down at my computer to work:
I can't even handle the cuteness that is this cat! I can't even handle the fact that I just wrote that sentence! She was quite the affectionate lover kitty when we brought her home, and its kinda nice to have her back in this form...even if she does keep rubbing up against my screen and covering my keyboard with her filthy dander fur...Blch.
In other cuteness:
and
and
and
and she is only "free"
Heaven help me, but I'm pretty sure she's gonna take after her Mother...
Just a hunch.
Friday, August 15, 2008
I Feel Pretty
Well, it is official: I am a professional actress. La dee da ti do re me….
I am pleased to announce that I have been cast as Maria in Island ETC’s production of West Side Story. And yes, as a matter of fact I DO feel pretty.
So for the next seven weeks I will be schlepping my rear end down to Galveston to rehearse Sunday through Thursday nights for my very first paid theater gig ever. I feel tired.
The show opens Oct 10th and runs for 5 weekends, Thursdays through Sundays, so I expect every last one of my adoring fans to find at least ONE of the 18 performances to come hear my Puerto Rican accent! Ay ay ay! I feel Latin.
In other news the Kitschy Kabaret was a hot mess of fun last night. (pics to come)
Not as many people showed up as had PROMISED (Jordan, this means YOU, and recompense will be required in the form of vegan baked goods or flowers for me to readmit you to the inner circle…) but we had a good turn out anyway! Devin and I totally winged the whole show, and managed to keep the room entertained. If we could do the show every week for a while it would be a real gas, but alas, alack, anon…with rehearsals and the upcoming holiday gigs, my raunchy cabaret dreams must be shelved temporarily forsooth, along with my cheap feather boas and black satin corsets, me thinkest. I feel Shakespearean.
The crowd seemed to appreciate my sense of humor, which was gratifying. The Jaded Princess set (a schtick about how the modern day woman, who tends to think of herself as a princess, would sing the classic Disney love songs with her modern experiences under her belt-full of irony and double entendre, just like I like it) certainly got a rise. I feel funny.
My favorite part of the night however was Devin’s original song Prom Date. Oh. Mein. Gott in Himmel. I was crying from the gut quaking laughter. I am going to record him doing that ASAP and post it. Clever lyrics, great music, funny musical jokes, and he’s so charming and entertaining; the room loved it. I feel amused.
This seems like the perfect segue into plugging HIS theatrical debut. The little turd found an audition post on craigslist, showed up and played (and sang) one of his own songs on guitar, and got the lead in a paid performance. First theater audition ever. Paid. Did I mention it was his FIRST audition EVER? And that it is a PAID gig? I feel repetitive.
Here is the myspace page for the show:
In the Middle of the Ocean
Book, Music & Lyrics by Chris Alonzo
Directed by Brandon Dinklage
AUGUST 21 - SEPTEMBER 6
Thursday - Saturday @ 8pm
Diverseworks Artspace
About the Show: This is the story of Camilla, who abandons society to build a floating brothel in the middle of the ocean. Soon she gets involved with a well-hung ghost and eventually follows him into the depths of Hell in search of true love. Greek Mythology collides with pirates, punks, and clowns in this rock-n-roll retelling of “Orpheus.”
About Melusine Theatre Company: The mission of Melusine Theatre Company is to develop and produce new works; to create fresh and bold interpretations of classic and contemporary plays, as well as rarely-produced works. With our youthful spirit and artist-driven approach, we aspire to become a gathering place for artists; to excite the imagination and nourish a lifelong passion and appreciation for the performing arts. Tickets for the event are available through Brown Paper Tickets, the first and only fair-trade ticketing service. All tickets are $15 General Admission and may be purchased by phone 1-800-838-3006 or by clicking on the link below:
I feel promotional.
I hope to do a little chronicling of the production and rehearsal process over the next few weeks. The biggest challenge will be logistics regarding my adorable progeny, so she may end up joining me at rehearsals occasionally equipped with game boy and gummy bears. I feel maternal.
Time to clean my house, pack for my dogsitting job (oh yes, there will be a blog about THAT!) bake some vegan cupcakes (Chocolate peanutbutter!) for a birthday party, maybe solve the world’s energy crisis, end poverty and battle oppression. I feel productive.
I am pleased to announce that I have been cast as Maria in Island ETC’s production of West Side Story. And yes, as a matter of fact I DO feel pretty.
So for the next seven weeks I will be schlepping my rear end down to Galveston to rehearse Sunday through Thursday nights for my very first paid theater gig ever. I feel tired.
The show opens Oct 10th and runs for 5 weekends, Thursdays through Sundays, so I expect every last one of my adoring fans to find at least ONE of the 18 performances to come hear my Puerto Rican accent! Ay ay ay! I feel Latin.
In other news the Kitschy Kabaret was a hot mess of fun last night. (pics to come)
Not as many people showed up as had PROMISED (Jordan, this means YOU, and recompense will be required in the form of vegan baked goods or flowers for me to readmit you to the inner circle…) but we had a good turn out anyway! Devin and I totally winged the whole show, and managed to keep the room entertained. If we could do the show every week for a while it would be a real gas, but alas, alack, anon…with rehearsals and the upcoming holiday gigs, my raunchy cabaret dreams must be shelved temporarily forsooth, along with my cheap feather boas and black satin corsets, me thinkest. I feel Shakespearean.
The crowd seemed to appreciate my sense of humor, which was gratifying. The Jaded Princess set (a schtick about how the modern day woman, who tends to think of herself as a princess, would sing the classic Disney love songs with her modern experiences under her belt-full of irony and double entendre, just like I like it) certainly got a rise. I feel funny.
My favorite part of the night however was Devin’s original song Prom Date. Oh. Mein. Gott in Himmel. I was crying from the gut quaking laughter. I am going to record him doing that ASAP and post it. Clever lyrics, great music, funny musical jokes, and he’s so charming and entertaining; the room loved it. I feel amused.
This seems like the perfect segue into plugging HIS theatrical debut. The little turd found an audition post on craigslist, showed up and played (and sang) one of his own songs on guitar, and got the lead in a paid performance. First theater audition ever. Paid. Did I mention it was his FIRST audition EVER? And that it is a PAID gig? I feel repetitive.
Here is the myspace page for the show:
In the Middle of the Ocean
Book, Music & Lyrics by Chris Alonzo
Directed by Brandon Dinklage
AUGUST 21 - SEPTEMBER 6
Thursday - Saturday @ 8pm
Diverseworks Artspace
About the Show: This is the story of Camilla, who abandons society to build a floating brothel in the middle of the ocean. Soon she gets involved with a well-hung ghost and eventually follows him into the depths of Hell in search of true love. Greek Mythology collides with pirates, punks, and clowns in this rock-n-roll retelling of “Orpheus.”
About Melusine Theatre Company: The mission of Melusine Theatre Company is to develop and produce new works; to create fresh and bold interpretations of classic and contemporary plays, as well as rarely-produced works. With our youthful spirit and artist-driven approach, we aspire to become a gathering place for artists; to excite the imagination and nourish a lifelong passion and appreciation for the performing arts. Tickets for the event are available through Brown Paper Tickets, the first and only fair-trade ticketing service. All tickets are $15 General Admission and may be purchased by phone 1-800-838-3006 or by clicking on the link below:
I feel promotional.
I hope to do a little chronicling of the production and rehearsal process over the next few weeks. The biggest challenge will be logistics regarding my adorable progeny, so she may end up joining me at rehearsals occasionally equipped with game boy and gummy bears. I feel maternal.
Time to clean my house, pack for my dogsitting job (oh yes, there will be a blog about THAT!) bake some vegan cupcakes (Chocolate peanutbutter!) for a birthday party, maybe solve the world’s energy crisis, end poverty and battle oppression. I feel productive.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Guilty Pleasures or Karaoke Night in the Gayborhood
The familiar sight of a multi-colored flag is flapping ever so slightly in the breeze generated mostly by Richmond traffic as I approach Decades, the divey neighborhood gay bar next door to My Main Gay’s apartment complex. He frequents the place for many reasons, but tonight, it is Wednesday, and that means: Karaoke.
Now as a rule, I avoid karaoke. As a professional musician, it is against my principles to sing bad music for free, but tonight Main’s little brother is in town and he wants to show him a nice relaxed time in The Gayborhood, and as usual, a good time for Main involves Yours Truly.
I am instantly struck by the cramped shoebox of a room that is the entire bar. Mirrored walls do little to open up the space and since it is still pretty early—nine-ish—there is not much of a crowd. The few patrons turn to size me up and I realize I have arrived before Main and to make matters worse I am quite possibly over dressed in my white linen skirt, layered tank tops and flip flops. Uh huh. I said overdressed.
Reserving judgment, I turn on my heels to wait for Main outside and eventually he, Little Bro, and another FriendBoy join me. We choose a spot at the bar just as a tall skinny man with a smallish head begins a painful rendition of something vaguely resembling country. The bartenders are bickering like siblings and I find out that there is a reason for this: they are. Charmingly Chipper Sis and Brooding Bearded Bro wearing a shirt that says “Vaginatarian” are painfully cute and I keep eavesdropping to hear if one of them will whine “I’m telling!” Their mother is the proud owner of this fine establishment and the whole operation is a family affair.
The friendly faces and warm introductions that come easily from the regulars quickly abate my snobbery and every brave soul that takes the mic seems to be genuinely enjoying him or herself, living in the moment, confidently doing in public what most of us self-conscious schlubbs only do in the sanctity of our own shower. I am inspired. But I still don’t really do karaoke…much. Suddenly, I hear my name called by the DJ and Main is smirking and looking falsely innocent. He has put my name along with his favorite Sarah Vaughn jazz tune, Whatever Lola Wants, on the lineup and I am now being paged to take my turn. My Scarlet O’Hara-esque eyebrow is struggling to free itself from my forehead as I attempt to maim him with eye-daggers while making my way to the microphone. He has a special request: I am to replace “Lola” with his name. It is something of an after hours tradition with us.
I shrug and surrender myself to the somewhat unwanted attention that comes with my karaoke performances. I bring all the sultry heat I have and mix that with a tiny bit of camp, and before I know it, there are cameras flashing and someone is recording me with their cell phone. All eyes are on me and the crowd is responding to each gesture and shoulder roll and the whole silly affair is rewarded with a bar full of applause and cheers when it is over. I bob a curtsy as humbly as I can and slink back to my barstool and beer, blushing fiercely and suddenly very thirsty.
I feel like it really isn’t fair to participate in karaoke nights since I sing for a living, and it is also a bit like asking your cousin’s new boyfriend with a PhD to look at this mole you have on your ass. I am not a skilled country or pop singer. That’s not my bag, baby, so unless the DJ has an extensive collection of Jazz standards in the keys I prefer, and/or a slew of obscure Broadway tunes, it is out of my box. Don’t get me wrong; it is fun beyond words to do a little Crystal Gayle or Madonna. I never get to do that stuff! But I always feel pressured to be perfect when I am singing outside the confines of a pro gig. Weird hang ups I suppose.
A return to Karaoke night the following week (how do I get myself in these situations?) proves to be even more absurdly fun and full of giggles. This week I was eerily sober all night and there were several gaggles of pretty-boy types out to have a good giggle. HA! Gaggles looking for giggles! I kill me! IT turns out that the lead geese all have decent voices and are pretty well versed in the cheesier Karaoke standards. On top of that, the bartender discovered that I am a pro musician and Main wanted me to share my Broadway chops with the crowd to mix it up a bit. Oy. So I find myself singing a little ditty from Oliver, the musical—more classical legit than belter Broadway, so its pretty high and requires a full voice. I have done this one other time in a similar bar, with a more redneckish clientele. You would think everyone would boo and hiss and throw bottles and coasters, but for some reason they eat it up.
I spent the rest of the night fielding questions about my occupation, humbly accepting compliments, and singing duets with a Lance Bass look-a-like (it was uncanny) including The Phantom of the Opera (his choice.) Yes, the one with the freakishly high note at the end. Well, it ain’t all that high for me, so it was kind of a gas to get to blow some minds with that one. It was like being a classical karaoke rock star; just what my expensive private school degree prepared me for. My lenders must be so proud. That must be why they are calling me everyday: to congratulate me on my personal success! But I digress…
The night was ceremoniously closed in true karaoke form with LB and me singing Summer Nights (again his choice.) It would have been better if he could have sung the harmony at the end, but hey, local gay bar karaoke night celebrities can’t be choosers. I think that’s what really keeps me grounded in reality.
All in all, a lovely couple of evenings, a great, relaxed neighborhood bar brimming with friendly folks, long necks are $3—which could be worse, and it is truly an authentic Montrose experience—at least, the low-key kind. If you are looking for something a bit more novel, well, that’s a different bar and another blog altogether.
Now as a rule, I avoid karaoke. As a professional musician, it is against my principles to sing bad music for free, but tonight Main’s little brother is in town and he wants to show him a nice relaxed time in The Gayborhood, and as usual, a good time for Main involves Yours Truly.
I am instantly struck by the cramped shoebox of a room that is the entire bar. Mirrored walls do little to open up the space and since it is still pretty early—nine-ish—there is not much of a crowd. The few patrons turn to size me up and I realize I have arrived before Main and to make matters worse I am quite possibly over dressed in my white linen skirt, layered tank tops and flip flops. Uh huh. I said overdressed.
Reserving judgment, I turn on my heels to wait for Main outside and eventually he, Little Bro, and another FriendBoy join me. We choose a spot at the bar just as a tall skinny man with a smallish head begins a painful rendition of something vaguely resembling country. The bartenders are bickering like siblings and I find out that there is a reason for this: they are. Charmingly Chipper Sis and Brooding Bearded Bro wearing a shirt that says “Vaginatarian” are painfully cute and I keep eavesdropping to hear if one of them will whine “I’m telling!” Their mother is the proud owner of this fine establishment and the whole operation is a family affair.
The friendly faces and warm introductions that come easily from the regulars quickly abate my snobbery and every brave soul that takes the mic seems to be genuinely enjoying him or herself, living in the moment, confidently doing in public what most of us self-conscious schlubbs only do in the sanctity of our own shower. I am inspired. But I still don’t really do karaoke…much. Suddenly, I hear my name called by the DJ and Main is smirking and looking falsely innocent. He has put my name along with his favorite Sarah Vaughn jazz tune, Whatever Lola Wants, on the lineup and I am now being paged to take my turn. My Scarlet O’Hara-esque eyebrow is struggling to free itself from my forehead as I attempt to maim him with eye-daggers while making my way to the microphone. He has a special request: I am to replace “Lola” with his name. It is something of an after hours tradition with us.
I shrug and surrender myself to the somewhat unwanted attention that comes with my karaoke performances. I bring all the sultry heat I have and mix that with a tiny bit of camp, and before I know it, there are cameras flashing and someone is recording me with their cell phone. All eyes are on me and the crowd is responding to each gesture and shoulder roll and the whole silly affair is rewarded with a bar full of applause and cheers when it is over. I bob a curtsy as humbly as I can and slink back to my barstool and beer, blushing fiercely and suddenly very thirsty.
I feel like it really isn’t fair to participate in karaoke nights since I sing for a living, and it is also a bit like asking your cousin’s new boyfriend with a PhD to look at this mole you have on your ass. I am not a skilled country or pop singer. That’s not my bag, baby, so unless the DJ has an extensive collection of Jazz standards in the keys I prefer, and/or a slew of obscure Broadway tunes, it is out of my box. Don’t get me wrong; it is fun beyond words to do a little Crystal Gayle or Madonna. I never get to do that stuff! But I always feel pressured to be perfect when I am singing outside the confines of a pro gig. Weird hang ups I suppose.
A return to Karaoke night the following week (how do I get myself in these situations?) proves to be even more absurdly fun and full of giggles. This week I was eerily sober all night and there were several gaggles of pretty-boy types out to have a good giggle. HA! Gaggles looking for giggles! I kill me! IT turns out that the lead geese all have decent voices and are pretty well versed in the cheesier Karaoke standards. On top of that, the bartender discovered that I am a pro musician and Main wanted me to share my Broadway chops with the crowd to mix it up a bit. Oy. So I find myself singing a little ditty from Oliver, the musical—more classical legit than belter Broadway, so its pretty high and requires a full voice. I have done this one other time in a similar bar, with a more redneckish clientele. You would think everyone would boo and hiss and throw bottles and coasters, but for some reason they eat it up.
I spent the rest of the night fielding questions about my occupation, humbly accepting compliments, and singing duets with a Lance Bass look-a-like (it was uncanny) including The Phantom of the Opera (his choice.) Yes, the one with the freakishly high note at the end. Well, it ain’t all that high for me, so it was kind of a gas to get to blow some minds with that one. It was like being a classical karaoke rock star; just what my expensive private school degree prepared me for. My lenders must be so proud. That must be why they are calling me everyday: to congratulate me on my personal success! But I digress…
The night was ceremoniously closed in true karaoke form with LB and me singing Summer Nights (again his choice.) It would have been better if he could have sung the harmony at the end, but hey, local gay bar karaoke night celebrities can’t be choosers. I think that’s what really keeps me grounded in reality.
All in all, a lovely couple of evenings, a great, relaxed neighborhood bar brimming with friendly folks, long necks are $3—which could be worse, and it is truly an authentic Montrose experience—at least, the low-key kind. If you are looking for something a bit more novel, well, that’s a different bar and another blog altogether.
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