For the Love of Audra! Audra McDonald at Avery Fisher

This guy

Who’s got two thumbs and squealed like a 12-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert upon hearing the announcer utter the five most thrilling words in the English language:  “Please welcome Ms. Audra McDonald”? 

This guy.

Yup, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I have an unholy obsession with all things Audra.  When it was announced she was giving a concert at Avery Fisher, I went online immediately - well, after weeping uncontrollably with joy - to purchase tickets.  I haven’t missed a single one of her New York appearances (Broadway or concert) since she first won my heart as spunky Carrie Pipperidge in Lincoln Center's 1994 Carousel revival.

I know, I'm just a cult affiliation and scraggly beard short of "stalker" status.

Trish nearly gave me a coronary, though, when she called my office ten minutes to five (the concert started at 7 PM) explaining she was still in Jersey and was going to hop in her car right then and drive straight to Lincoln Center.  I wished her luck, hung up the phone, ripped open a bag of cheddar and sour cream Ruffles and started binge eating. 

Not that Trish’s situation had any bearing on my attendance.  Hell no.  But I was experiencing sympathy stress just imagining what it would be like stuck in the Lincoln Tunnel knowing Audra was emoting to my empty seat. 

These thoughts only fueled my paranoia.  There was no way I was going to be late.  I left my midtown office immediately so I'd have a reasonable two hours to make the 15 block trek uptown to Lincoln Center.  You can never be too cautious when it comes to Audra.

When I exited the subway at Lincoln Center I texted Trish for an update.  She was still stuck at the Lincoln Tunnel.  I did what any sensible super-fan would do and headed straight to the box office, left Trish's ticket and headed to my seat.  Nothing is more important than family, except Audra.  Trish would have to fend for herself. 

Because the concert was being taped live for PBS broadcast, the usher gestapo was out in full force exclaiming, “No late entry.  You cannot leave the theatre once the performance has started.  There is no intermission.”  These weren’t your typical grumpy, elderly ushers.  Oh no, for a live Audra taping you get burly, secret service types in tuxes with white, curly phone-cord earpieces.

Since the concert was also a benefit for Lincoln Center, the audience skewed into two very distinct demographics.  Seated up front with their stretched-faced wives were the wealthy elite, all tuxedos and bored expressions.  Sure, they had an idea who Audra was - "that black woman from the TV show" - but they weren't true fans.  Meanwhile, the more youthful, skinny-legged-pant-wearing, theatre nerd contingent was scattered about, delegated to the rear orchestra and balconies. 

At 7 PM on the dot, the house lights went down and the concert began.  Huh?  Lincoln Center?  Gala event?  Wealthy New Yorkers?  On time?

Trish’s unused seat mocked me with its empty stare, but once Audra uttered her first sung phrase, “I happen to like New York…” everything else became irrelevant.  By the end of Audra’s second number (her now signature version of Jason Robert Brown's “Stars and the Moon”) I resigned myself to the fact that Trish was going to miss the concert, leaving me with a super convenient place to lay out my coat and bag.

Then as if on cue, the back doors swung open during our applause and a horde of latecomers came streaming through.  According to Trish, there were so many rich, privileged old people screaming and complaining about not being permitted late entry, the house managers had no choice but to let them in.

Regarding Audra’s performance, well, what can I say?  She was, as usual, magnificent and looked gorgeous in a teal gown.  Here's the NY Times' rave.  My only disappointment was that she didn't perform much new material.  Tonight's program was largely a repeat of her 2011 Carnegie Hall concert which also happens to be the material included in her upcoming new release "Go Back Home."  Even so, Trish and I were in tears as soon as Audra started in on the 9/11-themed "I'll Be Here."  And I have a feeling in about six months casting directors all over the country will want to shoot themselves after Audra's rendition of Goldrich & Heisler's "Baltimore" makes the song an audition staple.

Unfortunately, the sound in the theatre was pitiful.  You'd think the nation's premier performing arts venue would have some idea about setting sound levels for a solo singer and orchestra, but apparently not.  There was loud microphone feedback during a couple of very dramatic musical moments.  And for most of the concert, it sounded like Audra was singing into the mouth of a very large cave - all muffled and echo-y.

Oh well, Audra is still Audra.  Hopefully, they'll be able to do some magic in the editing room before the "Live from Lincoln Center" telecast.  I'm setting my DVR right now.

Welcome home...

I just wanted to share this festive photo of our PCPA alums in the dressing room at our recent Holiday Spectacular.  Aren't they gorgeous? 

How is it they keep getting older while I stay remarkably young and beautiful?  No comment, please.

Thanks to Jen Dilzell (third from right) for the photo I unceremoniously stole from her facebook page.  Love ya', mean it!

The most wonderful time of the year (?)...

Finally, I can take a break for a couple of weeks - no students, no rehearsals and no performances - just my regular 9 to 5 stint.  I wonder how many other people consider their forty-hour a week day-job a “break”?  Likely very few, methinks. 

Opening "Be Our Guest" w/ Trish as Mrs. Potts and me as
Lumiere

With the smashing success of our fourth annual Very Merry Pineda Holiday Spectacular (try to and say that quickly ten times), the Pinedas wrapped up another ridiculously busy year.  Within the span of two weeks, we put together three different shows - our successful, but somewhat aggravating production of Pirates by our Young Artists, the Musical Theatre Class Showcase and the Holiday Spectacular. 

Per usual, turnover time between shows was quick.  Minutes after we had laboriously crammed the Pirates backdrop into its cardboard shipping box following the final Sunday matinee, conservatory students and alumni began showing up at the theatre waiting to fill the stage with holiday merriment.  Their youthful enthusiasm quickly devolved into the wide-eyed confusion I’ve come to associate with the intake of too much information coupled with too little rehearsal time.

I think the Pineda Conservatory motto should be changed from “…where dreams take center stage” to “divide and conquer,” as this seems to be our go-to rehearsal philosophy.  Val teaches a song to a dozen eight-year-olds in the upper lobby, Juan blocks a scene in the lower lobby with a couple teenagers and I try to choreograph a dance number (with half the dancers missing) on the stage and violá - instant show! 

I came into the rehearsal process for the musical theatre showcase fairly late in the game - nine hours before the game, to be exact.  After Friday night’s Spectacular rehearsal, Juan asked if I would be the accompanist for the showcase, scheduled for the next night.  I, of course, said “yes.”  I had to be in Jersey all weekend for Spectacular rehearsals anyway.  What’s another show added into the mix?

So forsaking my coveted Saturday morning sleep-in time, I joined Juan and Val the next morning for more rehearsal, this time with the middle school musical theatre students.  For the showcase, the students picked their own songs and wrote original monologues leading into their songs. 

Apparently, there’s a shortage of prozac in the Central Jersey area.  Each depressing, angst-filled monologue was followed by another even more depressing, angst-filled monologue involving the death of mom, dad or both parents.  Pets and siblings managed to survive this fictional familial massacre unscathed.  This is probably how that town in Children of the Corn started out.



Juan's Cogsworth & Val finally a princess, Belle.



Later that afternoon - after a 3-hour Spectacular rehearsal, natch - the depressed middle schoolers returned, joined by the elementary school students, for a final run-through before that evening’s showcase.  The elementary school students were a bit of mess, but at least had the cute factor working in their favor. 

I have a personal theory about student performances - I think parents enjoy a student performance more if there is at least one train wreck.  Of course, I have no empirical evidence to support this theory and I wouldn’t recommend “planting” a clusterf*ck in a show on purpose, but parents seem to view pitch and rhythm-challenged toddlers as “cute.”  Give ‘em a perfect performance by a stage full of elementary schoolers? Well, that’s a snoozer.  A ditzy eight-year-old accidentally leading a whole line of kids off the stage into the pit?  Brava!



Despite a rough run-through and me having only received the music a few hours earlier, the performance went rather smoothly - no major jumped measures or forgotten cues and no pit fatalities.  Juan even managed to get one student to amend her monologue from “dead dad” to “dad hurt in a terrible accident.”  You have to pick your battles.

The next day we had a final dress rehearsal for the Holiday Spectacular.  This is somewhat of a coup for the Conservatory, as we’ve never had the luxury of a full run-through of the holiday show prior to the actual performance.  In previous years, we’ve set a 6:30 PM call time and done a speed through before the performance in order to set tempos with the accompanist (who is usually sight-reading the music) and to figure out mic hand-offs.  All the while, the cast is usually trickling in late.

This year, we had the fantastic Tony Bellomy at the piano.  He’s played rehearsals for our opera company in the past and is always a favorite with the singers.  Having him in the pit allayed at least some of our musical fears. 

Just the boys.

Though it took the entire four-hour rehearsal, we managed to get through every number except one - the elf number that Chris, Dan (see side bar) and I worked up.  Or rather, hadn’t worked up.  Let me give you some background info -

Last year at the speed through, about two hours before the performance, Val threw Chris and Dan into half a dozen numbers with no warning and little rehearsal.  Based on Chris’ complaints, I advised Val not to block Chris or Dan into any numbers in which they couldn’t rehearse, which, of course left nothing for them but our trio.  Fast forward to about a week before this year’s concert.  Chris asked me what he needed to learn for the concert.  I said, “Just our trio.  Since you were so annoyed by the last minute rehearsals last year, I told Val not to put you in any numbers that you couldn’t rehearse in advance.”  To which Chris replied, “I never said that.”  And curtain.

Luckily, the three of us have been friends for so long that minor squabbles like this rarely affect our friendship.  We’re probably more civil to each other than most married couples.

Chris and Dan are the only people I know whose schedules are as eff-ed up as mine, so the only time all three of us were available to rehearse our trio was the night before the show.  That meant we'd have to bang out a quick run-through with Tony just before half-hour call on the night of the Spectacular.  No sweat, right?  Except Chris wrote a pre-song scene that included Santa (one of our lovely Conservatory parents, but not really an actor) and a gaggle of elementary school students, not to mention a set change and full costume change for me (from a sexy Mrs. Claus to an elf with shoes taped to my knees).  Nothing like winging it on performance night with a nervous Santa and a bunch of eight-year-olds. 

Unfortunately, by Monday my brain’s short-term memory was already filled to capacity with holiday lyrics and blocking.  So when I met Chris and Dan for rehearsal at their apartment, I was a hot mess.  I could tell by Chris’ overly calm demeanor that he was in full panic mode over my lack of preparedness.  I assured him that I’d have my lines and blocking down pat by performance time, though in actuality, I wasn’t really sure I would.  Sometimes, lying is the right thing to do. 

Well, all our worrying was for naught.  We had a full house of appreciative parents and friends who didn’t even seem to notice all the f*ck ups.  Or at least they kept it to themselves if they did.  And I think I got about 90% of my lyrics and blocking correct - pretty good for a performance with virtually no rehearsal, not so much for a brain surgeon. 

Sure, we had the inevitable missed cues and a few suspect harmonies, but given the fact we had just barely gotten through the show once - two days ago - the evening was relatively catastrophe free.  My sexy Mrs. Claus version of “Steam Heat” was a hit, as was our (Chris, Dan and me) last minute, nearly rehearsal-less elf version of “Hard Candy Christmas.”

The opening mash-up of “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” and “Be Our Guest” from Beauty and the Beast was also a crowd pleaser, and probably the only time in my life I’ll ever don Lumiere’s famous candlestick costume. 

The best part of the evening?  Chowing down on brownies and cookies after the performance.

Juan, Val, Trish and I have already started planning for next year's Spectacular and I have just two words for you - wooden soldiers.  Be afraid.  Be very afraid.

My crazy dream and "Sweet Music"

Calling all amateur psychologists out there, tell me what's going on in my warped mind that would encourage the trippy dream I had last night. 

I was a character on "Glee" except we were in College, not High School.  The only character I can clearly remember was Mr. Schuester (aka Matthew Morrison) who was still a teacher, but for some reason also lived in the dorms with us.  He and some other dorm mates were making fun of me because I didn't want to join the ski team.  I can't remember the exact details anymore, but somehow I also had a "coming out" moment and Mr. Schuester was making fun of me for being gay.  It ended with me having dinner with Ellen DeGeneres and her wife, Portia, eating grilled meats and other assorted organs (I can clearly remember having a piece of grilled heart - gross, I know, but that's what I remember). 

I'm not exactly sure how it went from Mr. Scheuster's harassment to dinner with Ellen.  It's all foggy and I was trying to remember it as I was waking up but the more I concentrated on details, the more the images just floated out of my head.  I don't ski and I definitely have never eaten heart - well, not that I know of.  I do watch "Glee" and "Ellen," so I sort of get that connection, but the whole coming out thing doesn't really make sense to me considering I came out years ago and any hang-ups I had with that have long since been ironed out.  I also found it odd we were grilling meat since I know Ellen's vegan. 

Oh well, the only reason I mention it is because I usually forget my dreams by the time I've thrown my feet over the edge of the bed, so it's a unique treat when I can remember so many of the f*cked up details.

Speaking of f*cked up, this past Saturday, we (Juan, Val, Trish and I) put on one of our (in)famous thrown-together-at-the-last-minute concerts for the First United Methodist Church in Scotch Plains where Juan music directs.  We literally strung together a 90 minute concert in one rehearsal the night before the performance.  With three additional random guest performers and a crazy mix of pop songs, showtunes and Christian songs, we put together a program as eclectic as the passengers on a rush hour 7 train to Flushing.  Juan had actually warned us about the concert the week before, so I had at least already picked out two traditional songs since my go-to material can be somewhat risque for a Church-going crowd. Although same-sex love ballads and campy drag numbers bring the house down at more secular functions and venues, I sensed a more modest tone would be appropriate for the Methodists.  Know your audience, says I!

Since the church billed the evening as a concert and dessert reception (thus the concert's title, "Sweet Music"), I went with the food theme and chose the perennial favorite, "Sara Lee."  I did have a slight panic attack at the grocery store when I couldn't find a single Sara Lee item in the frozen food section to use as a prop for my song.  It seems Marie Callender and Stouffer's had pushed poor Sara into a lowly bottom corner of the freezer case. 

Glancing at our anemic set list late Friday night, Juan and I decided to throw together a duet version of "This is the Moment" (barf) from Jekyll & Hyde to fill out the evening and amp up the cheese factor.  Not to be outdone, Trish and Val countered with the equally cheesy, but in my opinion, better written and composed anthem "I Will Never Leave You" from Sideshow.  It's so sad that the loudest cheese always brings the biggest applause (sigh). 

Per usual, we didn't decide who would accompany which song until the night before either.  So we were kind of winging it at the concert.  Given that Dane, who was scheduled to accompany a couple of the numbers, didn't realize we had a Friday night rehearsal and that our regular drummer, Dan, showed up two hours before the concert and was winging it sans music, the concert ended up going pretty damn smoothly.  In the end, it was all just an excuse to donate money and scarf empty calories in the name of God, so I think everyone had a good time.  When there's a chocolate fountain involved, no one cares what you're singing anyway.