Mid-Day Musical


184306741tommymovie-who1I’ve been digging the band Feist lately.. and if you haven’t seen their music videos, then you should… it certainly puts me in a better mood. As I sing along, I start to dance a bit… Then, I go full blast- the music gets louder, my movement more apparent. Then, suddenly, I’m doing a dance number on 3rd Avenue during the busy humdrum of everyone’s lunch break. And, despite my crazy mood-my sudden sadness due to the lack of sunshine-I’m suddenly optimistic at the expense of my own sanity.

My God, I’ve gone Dancer in the Dark

I hate musicals quite honestly… I don’t believe that singy song situations are too believable.. and it always seems a little too queer, the people a little too over-dramatic, the lights too bright and the clothing too sharp and distinct. Nothing is softened by any type of reality.. even Rent. Sure, I tried to get down with it in high school.. but even then I didn’t get it. Why are we singing about AIDS? It’s not even funny…

…BUT – based on my favorite show tunes… and my recent breakthrough to the singy songy world, I did realize something:

MUSICALS ONLY MAKE SENSE UNDER THE SHEER CIRCUMSTANCE OF MADNESS AND INSANITY

My favorite musicals, including Tommy and Rocky Horror are filled with images of senselessness, while trying to break through some type of message.. and really its an intangible message, but quite clear in the broken minds of the music-makers who strung the notes together, like breaking glass cups and china plates onto wooden floors… and quite possibly through that floor and onto another table set for dinner. This makes sense in my head. Chicago may be an exception… but it’s at least ironic in both its plot and how it chooses music to show how society builds a performance out of tragedies… we need to be entertained in order to understand (which means we probably really never understand at all), and that’s partially senseless too… although I’m sure some could argue with me.

As I complete this blog, I’m compiling a library of songs, every which one I’ve sang to.. out loud… in the comfort of my bedroom. And I hope someone will take me to karaoke tomorrow… just so I can just get it out of me already… or I’ll do a pirouette straight into traffic while singing some random lyric in my brain.

I’m down to the last 9 songs… From Prince now onward to Portishead… it’s a softer solo-deep purple sequins tightly wrapped around the body, lips pink and painted, eyelashes fluttered, I sing and I cry.. this is my cue…

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