Going...Going...Gwon

Lessons from Sufjan, Lenny, and Mary.

2010-11-28T22:23:00.005-05:00

In my doddering old age, I find myself scribbling lots of notes to myself, littering my apartment with reminders of things I know but imagine I will forget I know:

"Email Noah."

"Reschedule jury duty by 12/2."

And, of course, endless variations on:

"Write!!!"

Recently, it occurred to me that the best theatrical experiences are like little reminder notes, scribbled to us by someone else, in some other language. They stick with us, cluttering up the deskspace of our brains, reminding us of things we know, but that we forget we know. Over the past couple weeks, I've had two such experiences, so thrilling in the moment, as great theatrical experiences should be, yet rich enough to yield little gifts that stay potent long after I've left the theater.

Thanks to the miracles of modern technology, and my apparent penchant for sending notes to myself, I received the following two emails, with the aim, I imagine, of reminding my future self what my past self was certain he'd forget.

From: Adam Gwon
Subject: WHAT I LEARNED FROM SUFJAN
Date: November 16, 2010 3:28:41 PM EST
To: Adam Gwon

Don't be afraid to be big, bold, messy, crazy, day glo
If it comes from the heart, it will be clear

sent from my Verizon BlackBerry

My past self, of course, had just seen Sufjan Stevens in concert at the Beacon Theater. Sufjan Stevens is a cultishly popular "indie" musician known mostly for his achingly beautiful, banjo-laden folk songs. This concert, however, was supporting his latest album release, in which he went in a totally different direction: it's pulsing, it's electronic, it's ambient, it's at once dark and powerfully peppy. The first lesson is pretty self-evident: just go there if you want to. Wear neon and dress like a robot and write big. You can pull it off. In fact, dare yourself to.

The second lesson came about halfway through the concert. Sufjan and his band were soaring through this intense, electro-heavy instrumental number from the new album. I wasn't so familiar with his new material, and as I sat there listening, I started getting overwhelmed with emotion. But it was so specific: I started thinking, seemingly out of nowhere, about a specific event that I had a specific emotional reaction to; it was all I could do not to start sobbing as the throb of the music swelled and swelled.

The song ended, and Sufjan, as he did with a number of his new songs, told the story of what made him write that song. And his story was the same as my story, the one that came into my head as I was listening. Like, freakishly, Twilight Zone theme-inspiringly the same. And I was reminded: if you really feel it when you write it, the audience will feel it, too.

Another email.

From: Adam Gwon
Subject: What I learned from candide
Date: November 28, 2010 8:00:32 AM EST
To: Adam Gwon

Truth is beauty
It's never too late to make changes for the better

sent from my Verizon BlackBerry

Over Thanksgiving weekend, I popped down to Washington, DC to see a production of Candide at the Shakespeare Theater. I had a bunch of friends in it, and the production was directed by Mary Zimmerman, of whom I'm a fan. And, of course, I looooove Candide.

Candide is sort of notorious for being a classic piece of theater that just doesn't work. It was written in the 1950s and has this mind-bogglingly amazing score by Leonard Bernstein. I mean, just shimmering magical musical genius. Over the decades, it's undergone many re-inventions, with a number of bookwriters who've attempted to make something good enough to support the brilliance of the songs. I've seen a couple productions of the show, and was always mystified at the disconnect between the power of the songs and the flimsiness of the script. They all tended toward this strange, Vaudeville-like, over-the-top performance style, which never really captured the emotional or thematic depths that the songs did so well. Which is not to say the show shouldn't be funny--it should be funny, but not false.

Enter Mary Zimmerman, who's done her own completely new version of the script around the existing songs. It's a production that's so inventive and beautiful and full of humanity because it's all so true. Pair Bernstein's music (see lesson #2 from Sufjan) with refreshingly honest performances (Geoff Packard and Lauren Molina as the two leads are funny and heartbreaking and, in the middle of a big, wacky comic operetta, real people) and you'll be reminded: truth is beauty, and beauty, truth. Honesty shines through above all else.

And the long story of this Candide, surviving, if not thriving, through the generations to its most current incarnation, is a huge reminder in itself: sometimes really great things take a huge amount of time and effort. There's never an excuse to not make something better. Some things are worth all the hard work you have to put into them.

Just before sitting down to type this blog entry, I'd jotted down another note to myself in preparation for the start of the week:

MON:
Chad video
Car rental?
Mp3s to Dennis

And on and on and on. But the reminders that were written down and gifted to me by Sufjan Stevens, and Leonard Bernstein, and Mary Zimmerman, are so much better. Because they're as much about their work as they are about life, that mysterious thing perpetually at the top of our to-do lists, that thing we're all, ultimately, writing about.

LA concert goodness.

2010-07-28T11:01:00.003-04:00

I was invited by the amazing folks at ASCAP to be part of an exciting concert in Los Angeles...check out these clips!

Piano on a pier.

2010-07-05T20:37:00.002-04:00

All last month, there was this public art project going on in New York City: 60 pianos were strewn across the five boroughs, out on the street, for anyone to come up and play. (It was, charmingly, called "Play Me, I'm Yours.") Before the pianos vanished, I grabbed a couple of my uber-talented singer friends and brought my living room to a pier on the Hudson River. Below, the results.

24 Hour Musical madness.

2010-02-09T22:38:00.002-05:00

Last night (and, I suppose, the night before!) I participated in this super awesome thing called The 24 Hour Musicals. It's a benefit for these great folks where writers, actors, directors, you name it, get together and write, memorize, stage and perform 15-minute musicals all in the span of 24 hours. Its inherent impossibility makes it kind of an amazing experience, which I thought I'd try and chronicle the highlights of here. (And for fun, I will do so alongside actor Julian Fleisher's own tweets from the event...)

Sunday, February 7

8:15PM - I arrive at the super-fancy/creepy/fascinating National Arts Club, where four composers' stations have been setup and Jeff Blumenkrantz has baked cookies. I discover I've been paired up with playwright Jonathan Marc Sherman. Our writing area contains two life-sized, red statues. It is super-fancy/creepy/fascinating.

9:30PM - At the meet-and-greet over at the Gramercy Theater. We all introduce ourselves. Strange props, like a zebra-striped snuggie and a scarf decorated as a piano, are introduced as inspiration. All the actors sing a few bars. They're damn good. I meet my musical director, Oran Eldor.

Julian tweets: At the meet and greet for the 24-hour Musicals. Um...Yikes!!!

11:00 PM - The writers are back over at the National Arts Club. Casting time! We draw numbers and one by one snatch up actor's polaroids. Jonathan and I have our cast: Julian Fleisher, Darius DeHaas, and Nancy Opel. We are very excited about our cast. Very.

11:15PM - We are very excited about our cast. There are their polaroids on the table. What sort of world would these three people exist in? What kind of dramatic relationships would they have?

11:23PM - Hm.

11:25PM - Still very excited about our cast.

11:32PM - Hmm...

Monday, February 8

12:01AM - Jonathan and I have an idea and a paper cup filled with animal crackers. Jonathan's typing and I'm piano noodling.

2:30AM - It's all been a blur, but there's been more typing, noodling, and animal crackers.

4:30AM - I finish one song. And then realize with terror that I need to write three more by 6AM!

4:31AM - I type furiously.

4:44AM - Type type type.

5:00AM - Can't really see straight anymore.

5:30AM - I reach what will henceforth become known as "the 5:30AM moment," where the lyrics turn all kinds of crazy. "Step one: I put my hand out/Then smack it on your face./Take out my magic lasso/And spin you all around this place."

5:39AM - "Step two: piano scarf/Gets thrown around your neck./Make sure your pulse is racing./Zebra snuggie? Check!"

6:05AM - Tech guru Grigor comes by to record my songs. I still have one and a half to write.

6:27AM - We record the two written songs.

6:29AM - I write the last one and a half on the fly into the microphone.

6:37AM - I transcribe those last one and a half.

7:00AM - Done! I eat a bagel and go home to take a nap! The directors have arrived and are choosing which pieces they want as I walk zombie-like to the subway.

Julian tweets: Oh shit. I'm in a musical with Darius DeHaas and Nancy Opal. Um...little help?

11:30AM - I'm en route to rehearsal, long since in progress.

Julian tweets: update. Celebrities and heavyweight galore. Lines, lyircs, melodies. Harmonies too. I'm playing a love MD. Need antihistamines stat.

12:15PM - I arrive at rehearsal; Trip Cullman is directing and they're on their feet.

2:40PM - The whole show is staged.

3:30PM - We're in a van back to the Gramercy Theater for tech. Actors get costumes and mics. There are lights. And a band. And a show poster.

Julian tweets: Ok. In shock. Too panicked to tweet. Ah-5-6-7-8!

4:30PM - We're back at the rehearsal studio. The actors are starting to panic. We keep running things. Actors run off into corners muttering lines to themselves. The room is something akin to a cell at an insane asylum.

Julian tweets: update: pronosis: seriously fucked. I and my Castmates are seriously underprepared for this material. At they're professionals!

5:35PM - I run to get a grilled cheese sandwich, and chicken soup for Darius.

6:45PM - Back in the van to the Gramercy. The cast is getting more hostile toward me. (They have a lot of lyrics.) There is a huge line of people waiting to get into the theater.

Julian tweets: My career is about to be damaged. Before I even have one.

7:25PM - I come up from the green room and find a seat in the audience. The theater is packed.

Julian tweets: Holy shit. Why why why why why why why why. Not joking. Need help. Will settle for a minor injury. Please please please.

7:40PM - House lights fade. Holy crap.

8:32PM - The world premiere of "The First of His Heart" by Jonathan Marc Sherman and Adam Gwon.

8:47PM - The actors and the band kick ass. Sure, they flub some lines. But that's part of the fun!

8:48PM - Whew!

8:49PM - I would totally do that again.

Ordinary Days, Hollywood style.

2009-12-21T21:49:00.003-05:00

In this photo, the ridiculously attractive West Coast Ordinary Days cast and creative team tries to look well, just ridiculous.

Clockwise from left: David Burnham (Jason), Dennis Castellano (Musical Director), Ethan McSweeny (Director), Deborah S. Craig (Deb), Nick Gabriel (Warren), and Nancy Anderson (Claire).

Come check it out, January 3-24 at South Coast Rep! All the info here.

Brewing my religion.

2009-12-19T01:43:00.002-05:00

Since an adolescent, I've always been suspect of religion. For instance, dedicated to my role as a rebellious, angst-ridden, pre-teen, I would often call out my mother (our Hebrew school principal, no less) on just how little sense it made to congregate in a room and intone words in a language from which we derived little personal meaning.

(In response, my mother enrolled in a conversational Hebrew class, which didn't last long, since I'm guessing she wanted to say more to God than, "The ball is red." Love you, mom!)

Anyway, religion's always seemed a bit weird to me; I haven't been able to wrap my brain around the idea of having faith in something as intangible as an invisible man in the sky.

Until today, that is.

I had two meetings scheduled about two hours apart, leaving some time to kill (and only 20 blocks to walk) in between. It's freezing cold here in NYC, so I wondered what to do. I just started walking down Seventh Avenue, when my Great Religious Epiphany occurred.

Perhaps this is what it's like when people say they hear the voice of God: I was walking in the cold, aimless if not exactly lost, when as clear as day a voice said,

"Starbucks. Keep walking, Adam, and you will find a Starbucks. You need not take out your Blackberry, nor ask the man on the corner for directions. Keep walking, believe, and ye shall find."

In a rare moment of blind faith, I just kept walking, knowing with religious certainty that I would encounter a Starbucks perfectly situated between where I was and where I needed to be.

And lo and behold, there it was, at Seventh Avenue and 27th Street: a Temple of Caffeine, offering me warmth, comfort, and a place to sit for a lot less than my parents' synagogue dues.

I mean, if that's not faith in action, then paint me green and call me Jesus.

Detour ahead.

2009-08-05T00:00:00.002-04:00

For the coming weeks leading up to the opening of Ordinary Days at Roundabout, I will be blogging over at Roundabout's blo g about the production and the process of putting up a new musical. Please check it out!

Pina Bausch.

2009-06-30T11:15:00.012-04:00

I read the sad news today that Pina Bausch, my favorite favorite artist, has passed away. Her exquisitely beautiful dance-theater pieces lit up my soul every two years when they came to BAM, and she will be greatly missed.

I first saw a Pina Bausch piece my freshman year at NYU, at the suggestion of my directing teacher Jim Peck. My friend Lauren and I hopped on the subway toward Brooklyn, only to discover, halfway to Coney Island, that we were on the wrong train. We doubled back, and ran up to the BAM box office just in time to nab two student rush tickets -- for less than the price of a movie ticket -- smack dab in the middle of the first row of the mezzanine.

For the next three hours I set mesmerized watching what, really, transcends any description I could write here. Over the past decade I've seen every Pina Bausch show that's come to New York, and every time I've been re-energized by her signature blend of beauty and humor, athleticism and elegance.

Pina, I shall miss thee, but you and your work live on in those whose lives you've touched -- not least of which is mine.

Here are some photos I quickly culled from the web of Pina Bausch's work. Ah, the memories.

Sitzprobing.

2009-06-20T11:32:00.005-04:00

"Sitzprobe" is a funny-sounding word which means the rehearsal when the singers and the orchestra rehearse together for the first time. Check out some pics from yesterday's sitzprobe for Ordinary Days!

Orchestrator Andy Einhorn contemplates changes in the score.

Cellist Allison Seidner marks it up.

The band plays on.

All you really need for a sitzprobe: a score, and Shake Shack.

Come check out the show at Adirondack Theatre Festival, opening next week, and hear the beautiful orchestration for yourself! Tickets and info at www.atfestival.org.

Just announced!

2009-06-04T20:58:00.002-04:00

Ordinary Days is gonna be at the Roundabout Theatre Company this fall! Read about it in Variety and Playbill.

I'm very excited not only because, well, it's the Roundabout, but because I actually used to work there a few years ago, so it's a strange, unexpected homecoming. Performances will start in October, and tickets will go onsale in August -- stay tuned for more details!

Also, please watch this hilarious and unrelated YouTube video.

Classic.

2009-05-02T14:38:00.000-04:00

MAC Award showcase.

2009-04-15T22:25:00.001-04:00

2009 MAC AWARD SONG/SPECIAL MATERIAL NOMINEE SHOWCASE!
Saturday, April 18 @ 3:30PM
(Doors open at 3:00pm for seating)
at Don't Tell Mama, 343 West 46 Street, NYC

Come hear this year's nominees for Outstanding Song and Special Musical Material:

SONG
"Running" (Adam Gwon)
"Change In Me" (Carol Hall)
"Come Home" (Mark Janas & Peter Napolitano)
"Right Here, Right Now" (Paul Rolnick & Jim Papoulis)
"Living Without Love" (Jason Wynn)

SPECIAL MUSICAL MATERIAL
"This is MY Birthday" (Carol Hall)
"Leaky Ceiling" (Sharon Kenny)
"The Olives of Regret" (Nicholas Levin)
"The Mess" (Ryan Scott Oliver)
"You May Have a Problem" (Dan Page, John Domurad, Michele Page)

FREE FOR MAC MEMBERS ($10, guests)
NO MINIMUMS! Cash bar available!

RESERVATIONS APPRECIATED:
(212) 465-2662 ext. 1
or email RSVP@MACNYC.com

Running on full.

2009-03-20T23:38:00.002-04:00

Read this glowing review of my friend Cait Doyle's cabaret show, "Hot Mess in Manhattan," complete with a mention of the song I wrote for it, "Running."

It's true, Cait's show is as awesome as this reviewer thought. If you're in NYC and haven't seen it, go now!

To whet your appetite, here's a video of "Running" for ya.

Capital fun.

2009-02-07T15:52:00.002-05:00

Thanks to everyone who came out to the concert at the Kennedy Center! We had so much fun performing there, to an overwhelmingly huge crowd!

A video of the full concert is archived at the Kennedy Center's website. You can watch it there at any time!

Video killed the radio star.

2009-01-31T19:43:00.002-05:00

Or, actually, just made the musical theater writer more accessible to you!

Check out the clip below of Nick Blaemire premiering my song "Alaska" at the Laurie Beechman Theatre earlier this month.

And don't forget you catch my upcoming Kennedy Center concert live on the web on Thursday, February 5th at 6PM!

Kennedy Center!

2009-01-24T11:14:00.002-05:00

So much excitement in Washington, DC these days...and now, you can catch yours truly in concert at the famed Kennedy Center!

I'll be performing an hour-long set on Thursday, February 5th at 6PM, with vocalists Stanley Bahorek and Leah Horowitz. It's all part of the Kennedy Center's celebration of "Broadway Today" and the next generation of musical theater composers, on their Millennium Stage.

The concert is FREE, so come check it out if you are in the DC area. If you're not, you can also tune in at the Kennedy Center's website, where the concert will be broadcast live and then archived for viewing at any time!

More info here and here.

Mister Popularity.

2009-01-06T13:42:00.002-05:00

Google Webmaster Tools is a fun but mostly baffling web application that tells you about Google traffic to your website. Fun, because, well, it's something to do when you're bored and feeling narcissistic, and baffling because, well, here's what it said were the top three most popular Google searches that brought up my site:

1. زباب (which is possibly Arabic for 'lesser white-toothed shrew')
2. good looking
3. adam gwon

Please explain.

New year, new tunes.

2008-12-31T17:25:00.002-05:00

Shop 'til you drop it.

2008-12-15T00:32:00.003-05:00

I lost my scarf this weekend, which was unfortunate. It was a very nice scarf given to me by my parents, so I was sad to see it go.

But the worst part was, I lost the scarf while shopping. At Barney's. (Explanation to follow.) So on top of losing my scarf, I had just spent a semi-ungodly amount of money on other articles of clothing, and was suddenly faced with the necessity of spending more.

Also, when one loses one's scarf at Barney's, and one does not usually buy one's clothes from Barney's, one gets into conversations like this:

AG: Oh no! Bettina*, I've lost my scarf!
Bettina (*name of Barney's employee changed to protect the innocent): Uh oh! Well, what brand was it?
AG: Oh, you know, it was, um, the (insert some brand name here) brand.
Bettina (with a slight pause and glower): Oh. Well, we don't sell that brand here, so at least that'll make it easier to find.

OK, let's just say it: Barney's is fucking bananas.

These days, bananas has two meanings: the kids call things they like bananas, as in, "OMG that new Jonas Brothers song is bananas!" And there is also the traditional meaning of fucking crazy, as in, "You must be bananas to think that Sarah Palin has the wherewithal to lead this country in a fruitful direction!"

I describe Barney's as bananas because it suits both uses of the word. It is bananas because there are some beautiful, beautiful clothes there that are known to bring hipsters and Upper East Siders to their knees. It is also bananas because it is filled with nutjobs who are crazy simply because they don't think spending what I pay for a month's rent on a tie is bananas.

Up until this weekend, my only experience of Barney's was through the infamous Barney's Warehouse Sale, where tons of their merchandise is shipped to a dingy loft space in Chelsea and sold for cheap, cheap, cheap. My friend Liz and I used to go there every year and play the "Buy The Ugliest Thing You Can Find For Under $5" game, which resulted in such memorable purchases as the neon yellow palm tree board shorts, and the plum/avocado/mustard striped polo. One year at the Barney's Warehouse Sale, I actually made $15, because the line to checkout was so long, and some douchebag paid me $20 to take his stuff up to the register for him. So I paid $5 for my ugly ass purposely-ripped graffiti t-shirt, took his $20 and snickered all the way to the bank.

This should have prepared me for how bananas the real Barney's is! I was trying on a dress shirt (the dressing rooms there are sort of these haunted-mansion-secret-passageway deals, where the salesperson presses some inconspicuous looking wood wall panel, and it opens to reveal a posh little room with a chaise and several handsome throw pillows) and when I came out, a Gentleman in a Great Rush was ushered into the room right after me. He apparently needed a shirt right then and there, so he shoved a wad of $400 cash into the salesman's hands, changed into the shirt, and walked out of the store. This is bananas both ways, because a) it was a very nice shirt, and b) when I'm out and suddenly need a shirt to wear, I go to, like, Conway or something. But I'm guessing it's less satisfying to shove $8.99 into a salesperson's hands than it is with $400.

I ventured out to Barney's after reading much ado about the great fiscal crisis of the high-end retailer this year. True enough, there was loads of stuff on sale, even though "on sale" meant that it was reduced from "Are You Out Of Your Fucking Mind?" to "You Want Me To Pay What? Well, Maybe Just This Once."

There are lots of very attractive people that shop at Barney's, and as the salesperson rang up my spiffy new jacket, I thought, I'm gonna look pretty impeccable in this myself.

If was both comforting and disheartening to realize that I'd better look impeccable, because just like all the other dapper gents at Barney's, I'd certainly paid for it!

Clever clever!

2008-12-03T00:09:00.003-05:00

Global warming swimming pool!

h/t Trendspotting

Ebb and flow.

2008-11-30T18:45:00.003-05:00

In the midst of my holiday travel rage, I neglected to mention on here the recent amazing news:

I've been awarded this year's Fred Ebb Award!

What is the Fred Ebb Award you may ask?

It's an annual award that honors an emerging writer for excellence in musical theater songwriting, and it's named in honor of lyricist Fred Ebb, of the legendary team of Kander & Ebb. (You've sung one of their songs before, trust me.)

Tomorrow night I'll be presented the award, which comes with a sweet cash prize!

Read more about it here in Playbill and Variety (complete with some of my favorite Variety-speak!)

Mega Fucking Shitty Bus.

2008-11-30T14:46:00.004-05:00

Every year, around this time, I'm making plans to travel home for the holidays. Baltimore's not that far from New York, and I always have to decide whether I take the train, or the fucking shitty bus company du jour.

My thought process goes something like this.

Train

Ontime
Fast
Big, cushy seats
Dining car

Or,

Fucking Shitty Bus Company

...
...
um...

Well, the bus costs $15.

There's a Lewis Black bit about candy corn, about how he hates it, but every year, like an Alzheimer's patient, he sees candy corn and tosses a handful in his mouth, only to remember that it's gross.

That's pretty much me and the fucking shitty bus company. Every year, I say, gee, the fucking shitty bus only costs $15...I suppose all the hassle is worth it, since it's so cheap. And every year, like and Alzheimer's patient, I book that $15 ticket on the fucking shitty bus, and on every trip, I rue the day I clicked that fucking shitty "Buy Now" button on the fucking shitty website for the fucking shitty bus.

I've been through a lot of fucking shitty bus companies over the years. In fact, I don't think I've ever traveled on one fucking shitty bus company more than once, because they're all so fucking shitty. This year I was hoodwinked by the shiny new fucking shitty Megabus. Megabus buses are blue, doubledecker deals that seem okay from the outside. And to ride them to Baltimore only costs $15.

Here's my morning. Bus, scheduled to leave at 10:25am, does not arrive at random-ass parking lot designated as pick-up area. In the meantime, me and increasingly angry fucking shitty bus company clientele are standing in the freezing cold rain, shivering and wet.

In succession, people in the line start calling the fucking shitty Megabus to find out where in God's holy name the fucking shitty bus is. Each time, they are told it's 10 minutes away. This is a boldfaced lie, so I call them myself.

FSBC: Are you calling to book a ticket on our fucking shitty bus?
AG: No. I'm calling the find out where the 10:25 bus from Baltimore to New York is.
FBBC: Let me transfer you.

Minutes pass, my hands freeze over.

FSBC: How can I help you?
AG: I'm calling to find out the status of the 10:25 bus from Baltimore to New York.
FSBC: That bus is 10 minutes away.
AG: Do you know where the bus is, exactly?
FSBC: No.
AG: Then how do you know it's 10 minutes away?
FSBC: I'm sorry?
AG: Ten minutes seems to be your default response. I don't believe you.
FSBC: What's that?
AG: Nothing. 10 minutes. Thank you, fucking shitty bus company.

The bus finally arrives, an hour late, and it's come from Washington, DC, so it's already almost full. It is clear from the outside that not everyone on this cold, wet line is getting on this bus.

If Adam Gwon does not get on this bus, there will be hell to pay, so I forgo stowing my duffle bag beneath the bus (the luggage compartments are full, anyway) and jump ahead in the line, show my ticket, and snag one of the few open seats on the upper level of the bus.

Two levels, why, that fucking shitty bus company must be fancy, you might think. How wise of them to get a bus that can hold twice as many people! What one realizes, though, when one steps onto the bus with a dripping wet duffle bag, is that the extra seats take the space of any sort of luggage storage area. Anywhere. So, I shove my duffle where my feet should go, balance my messenger bag on top of it, and resign to sit sideways for the rest of the ride.

Meanwhile, my plan of taking an earlyish bus to dodge the holiday traffic has been foiled by the fucking shitty bus company, so we creep along the highway until the driver decides to take an exit and wander down some side road, which is where we are now.

I've missed my 3PM rehearsal, which I scheduled because we were due into the city at 1:45PM. It's 3:08PM and the city is nowhere near where I am at the moment.

The saving grace here on the Megabus is that there is wireless internet, so I can write about how FUCKING SHITTY it is while actually riding it. How's that for customer feedback?

Prop 8 protest.

2008-11-17T21:50:00.000-05:00

A turnout of thousands -- amazing!

London calls...

2008-11-11T22:44:00.002-05:00

"BRILLIANTLY WRITTEN... A bright and witty show... One suspects this won't be the last we hear of Adam Gwon." --What's Onstage (London)

"Gwon...has a vibrant ear for melody and a strong lyrical voice." --The Stage (London)

Many thanks to the folks who realized the sold-out London premiere of Ordinary Days! Rumor has it that performances have been added to accommodate the popular demand...and there is always the returns line for last-minute availability. Watch the Finborough Theatre website for details.

En route to Paris, 5am.

2008-11-05T00:50:00.001-05:00

Free songbook goodness.

2008-10-25T20:19:00.002-04:00

This Monday, October 27 at 6PM , catch me in a free concert at Lincoln Center! The fabulous Cait Doyle will be performing "Gotta Get Out" (with yours truly at the piano) as part of the Songbook concert in the Bruno Walter Auditorium at the Lincoln Center Library for the Performing Arts. There are some other great writers and performers taking part as well. Click here for more information.

Yes!

2008-10-19T12:56:00.000-04:00

You tell it, General Powell!

No on Prop 8.

2008-10-17T11:05:00.002-04:00

Below, an email from my friend Clay in California -- a personal and heartfelt call to action regarding California's Proposition 8, which would write discrimination into the state's constitution. If you're in CA, vote NO on Proposition 8, which legislates treatment of gays and lebsians as second-class citizens. If you're not in CA, you can donate to support the cause here.

Clay's email:

Dear Family and Friends,

I’m not a political person, and I feel distinctly odd sending out to the world my personal views and opinions on a ballot measure. In this case, though, I don’t really have a choice. Common wisdom seems to say that Prop 8, which (by simple majority) would amend the state constitution to permanently revoke the rights of gays and lesbians to marry their partners, is going to come down to a few percentage points either way. I appreciate you taking the time to read this and hopefully pass it on.

This is my personal plea to all of you who know me, or know any gay or lesbian person, to do your small part to make sure that Prop 8 doesn’t pass. If you’re in California, please vote no. If you aren’t, please send this along to everyone you know who is, and ask them to do the same. The loss of the right for one person to marry another person they love would be a devastating blow to the spirit of life, equality, and personal freedom on which this country is built, not to mention a very public confirmation that bigotry and intolerance still exist strongly even here in one of the most liberal states in America.

As some of you know, my husband Seth and I have been together six and a half years, and have known each other ten. We are a deeply committed and loving couple who both happen to be men. We dream of living in a state and country that recognizes our union as just as legitimate as any other, and of gaining the same exact rights and responsibilities as any other married couple. California currently affords us that. On May 31st of this year, we threw a wedding celebration for many of our family and friends, and on August 8th we legalized our marriage in front of a clerk and received our official marriage certificate.

I designed our wedding rings, which depict two unbroken waves, one following the other, each supporting the other as it pulses along on its journey in this world, never ending, always speeding towards a new day together. Our wedding was the most emotionally charged experience of my life, as anyone there can attest, and the feelings of catharsis and legitimacy that the ceremony inspired in me were surprising.

What I discovered standing in front of 120 of the people who matter most to me in the world is that it is the most beautiful feeling imaginable to declare your love of another person openly and honestly, to promise to honor and cherish the person that completes you – and to have that commitment legally recognized as just as legitimate and positive and good as any other.

The composer Adam Guettel wrote that “faith is hoping for something and believing what you can’t see.” In this case, it’s a faith in the inherent goodness and empathy of our society. It’s about faith in each other, and in our families and friends, and in millions of people who may not be personally affected one way or the other by Proposition 8.

The truth is, the passage of Prop 8 will affect people like me very directly, forcefully, and permanently. Seth and I are members of a small minority – but we are human beings and citizens of this state and country, and like all others we have built a strong, loving connection to each other. We have found a partner in each other with whom to travel through life, and we dream of children growing up in our home and of living out our years together and taking care of each other until the day we die. We are not harming anyone. We are not inflicting any beliefs on others except a belief in equality and love. We are not a threat. What we are, what our love and marriage are, is a celebration of stability and continuity and joy in society, and we need your help. Prop 8 is destructive and vindictive and filled with hate. Please help defeat it.

It is dramatic to say that my heart aches and my eyes tear up at the thought of having the equality and legitimacy of our love revoked by 50.01% of the population, but that’s the reality. And that’s why I’m essentially begging you to help me defeat this amendment, which would be one of those rare amendments that denies a minority population a right afforded to the majority.

Please pass this message along to whomever you think appropriate.

Please vote No on Prop 8.

And please, if you are able, vote against propositions and laws like Prop 8 wherever they occur. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Clay

Quote of the day.

2008-10-05T11:42:00.001-04:00

"True mavericks don't brand themselves." --Maureen Dowd

Double cast.

2008-10-04T16:27:00.005-04:00

Casts are set for both the London premiere and the upcoming NAMT festival presentation of Ordinary Days!

The Finborough Theatre production (beginning Nov 3) will feature West End stars Julie Atherton (Avenue Q, The Last Five Years) as Claire, Kenneth Avery-Clark (The Producers, The Drowsy Chaperone) as Jason, Hayley Gallivan (Fiddler on the Roof, Follies) as Deb, and Lee William-Davis (Mamma Mia, Mary Poppins) as Warren. If you happen to be in the UK, get your tickets now for this exciting new production!

Casting has also been finalized for the upcoming NAMT festival presentation of Ordinary Days in New York City, which will feature Jared Gertner (Spelling Bee) as Warren, Adam Jacobs (Les Miserables) as Jason, Kate Shindle (Legally Blonde) as Claire, and Kate Wetherhead (Legally Blonde, Spelling Bee) as Deb. If you are an industry professional you can reserve your spot now for presentations on Oct 20 & 21 at New World Stages.

See you then!

The Great Schlep.

2008-10-04T14:07:00.000-04:00

No contest.

2008-10-03T10:44:00.003-04:00

My review in two sentences:

Joe Biden knocked it out of the park.
Sarah Palin, um, spoke in complete sentences.

My review in two words:

No contest.

OMG, just say "The Wall Street Journal" for crying out loud, so we can all stop calling you a clueless douchebag!

2008-09-30T21:48:00.001-04:00

More politics. (Sorry.)

2008-09-25T13:54:00.005-04:00

Here's a great and justifiably angry post from Parabasis. I will admit that, until a few months ago, I thought John McCain was an OK guy. I mean, I'd certainly never vote for him, but I didn't think his being in office would mean the end of the world as we know it. Funny how things change. I think his campaign has transformed into a disgusting mockery of American politics, and we deserve far, far better. C'mon, Obama, c'mon!

Here's the post:

"I was talking to a friend yesterday who said that in watching the news he felt like he was seeing some ridiculous satire about a Presidential campaign rather than an actual one. And sure enough, John McCain's ridiculous call for suspending his campaign and postponing the debates fits into that perception.

I think what McCain is doing is a transparently ridiculous, cowardly, fake-principled Machiavellian move, and luckily lots of other people are seeing through it (including David Letterman, oddly enough). But just in case you're not convinced, here's my take on it:

(1) We are indeed in the midst of a major economic crisis that threatens to sink the global economy. It's like hella serious, and I get that. At the same time, our country has faced worse crises without suspending Presidential campaigns like, you know, fucking war.

(2) Furthermore, as Obama has stated himself, the debates are a chance to speak substantively to the American people about the crisis, about economic stewardship and about the differences between the candidates.

(3) The problem is, McCain doesn't want to have that conversation. McCain has long been an advocate for Wild West economics-- complete deregulation of markets and letting the wealthy do whatever the fuck they wanted. His ideology is the ideology responsible for this mess, and he knows it. He's also repeatedly tried to get social security privatized so it could be tied into this whole stock market disaster, and he wants to do the same thing with health care. Simply put: his record on these issues is terrible and unpopular. And he can try to change his opinions on all fo these points, but if he doesn't simply admit that he was wrong and he sees that now, he's going to get hammered for flip flopping. In other words he's in an impossible position in terms of appearing in front of the American people, he's totally fucked. His main economic philosophy for the entirety of his career has just been completely discredited.

(4) On top of this, his Vice Presidential candidate just gave another complete disaster of an interview with Katie Couric in which she prevaricated incoherently around pretty much every question. Simply put: she will not be ready for her debate next week.

(5) So what's a poor candidate with an unqualified not particularly bright running mate and a disastrous economic policy hanging around his neck like an albatross supposed to do? Well, why not make sure the debates get postponed until after the government is already doing something about the crisis? And furthermore why not make that debate take place when the VP debate was supposed to be an indefinitely postpone the VP debate? Sounds great... now... how do we wrap ourselves in the flag enough to get away with this? I know! We'll "nobly suspend the campaign!" BRILLIANT!

(6) I think it's also worth saying how undemocratic this whole thing is. What McCain is saying is that the crisis is so big, he must not appear in front of the american people so he can go into a secret back room with some other senators and hash out a deal without review from the pesky public. This is ridiculous. If anything, the debates are more important than him being in Washington. In fact, Harry Reid has specifically requested that the candidates not come to Washington because the injection of the candidates and their staff and media presence into the negotiations will overly politicize it.

Simply put: if John McCain is afraid to face Barack Obama the media and the American people for a substantive conversation about an important issue, how is he going to face Kim Jong Il over his nuclear program? I mean, I knew John McCain was totally willing to sell out his principles, change his position on key issues and compromise his character in a Faustian bargain for the Presidency. What I didn't realize is that he'd turn into a coward too."

NYC concert alert!

2008-09-19T18:55:00.002-04:00

A couple concerts coming up in NYC that feature yours truly:

Monday, September 29 @ 7:00PM
Monday Nights, New Voices
Duplex Cabaret Theatre (61 Christopher Street)

I'll be the guest composer at Scott Alan's New Voices series, hosted by Megan McGinnis. Come check out some old favorites as well as some brand-new tunes performed by Jaime Cepero III, Matt DeAngelis, Demi Fragale, Jake Glassman and Molly Hager.

There is a $12 music charge and a two-drink minimum; for reservations call (212) 255-5438 or visit: http://theduplex.com/test/webcalendar/reservations.php?cal_id=3594

~

Monday, October 6 @ 7:30PM
Broadway in South Africa benefit concert
Symphony Space (2537 Broadway at 95th Street)

I wrote a brand-new song for this concert, which raises money for Broadway in South Africa, and features other new songs from Michael John LaChiusa, Bill Russell & Henry Krieger, Jeff Blumenkrantz, and more. Performers include Stanley Bahorek, Eden Espinosa, Renee Elise Goldsberry, Norm Lewis, Julia Murney, Billy Porter, Kate Shindle, and Sally Wilfert.

Tickets available for $100, $60, and $20. To order call Symphony Space at 212.864.5400 or www.symphonyspace.org.

Hope you can make it to one or both!

Wow, I hate John McCain.

2008-08-29T14:38:00.003-04:00

I tend not to get political on this here blog thingy...but, wow, I hate John McCain. Because his choice of VP makes it so clear that he's not interested in assembling a team that will effectively lead the nation, but one solely designed to steal votes from Barack Obama on the most superficial level possible.

I hope most Americans are way smarter than Republicans give them credit for. Fingers crossed.

Today I contemplated...

2008-08-21T17:24:00.000-04:00

...the inherent distractions of summertime.
...the complicated pleasures of the color green.
...Leonard Bernstein.

Another rave!

2008-08-14T22:14:00.002-04:00

Check out this rave review of Ordinary Days from the Altoona Mirror!

(Yes, Altoona is kind of a funny name.)

Thanks to everyone who came out to see the show in PA!

Ordinary Days extended through August 9th!

2008-07-28T15:55:00.002-04:00

That's right, you've got an extra week to make it out to Pennsylvania Centre Stage for the world premiere of Ordinary Days.

Read what the critics are saying !

Get your tickets now...

NAMTastic!

2008-07-17T13:27:00.002-04:00

Ordinary Days has been selected for this year's NAMT festival. Read all about it here -- you'll see I'm in excellent company!

Dairy days.

2008-07-16T16:01:00.003-04:00

If you're able to travel to central Pennsylvania in the next few weeks, I'd of course love for you to come see the world premiere of Ordinary Days. But there's another pressing reason why you should make the trek out to State College, PA.

Yogurt.

You may not know that the Penn State campus is home to the nation's largest university creamery, and it's a mere 10 minute walk from Pennsylvania Centre Stage. Though the line usually stretches waaaay out the door, holymotherofgod their yogurt is the best yogurt I've ever had. I'm partial to the Light Boysenberry. I want to bathe in a large vat of it.

Sweetjesusandtheapostles it is good yogurt.

So, come, see some musical theater, eat some yogurt. It's all worth the trip. ;)

Extra, extra.

2008-07-05T16:59:00.003-04:00

The Washington Post and The New York Times write about the new commissioning program at Signature Theatre. Check it out!

And yes, PS, I am one of the composers who is "still developing ideas" for what I'm going to work on...but hopefully I'll have some news to share on that front soon!

OMG, my nephew is the cutest baby ever.

2008-07-02T00:58:00.002-04:00

July 2008 edition:

MCC Theater Youth Company End-of-Year Readings.

2008-07-01T21:47:00.003-04:00

I just had the most fun I've had in a long time working on a show for the Youth Company at MCC Theater. Jenny Martinez, a high school senior in the company, wrote an amazing and raucous musical that we workshopped and added music to for a presentation tonight at the Rattlestick. There were also two plays presented by youth company playwrights and they were all incredible. A special shout-out to Jenny, our up-for-anything cast: Gabrielle Stravelli, Barrett Foa, Sal Sabella, Daniel Sergio and Apples Vargas, MCC education guru John DiResta, and Lucy Thurber for inviting me on board! So much fun.

Signature style.

2008-06-20T10:12:00.004-04:00

My reaction to the phone call I got a couple months ago about this went something like:

Check out Signature's official website about the American Musical Voices Project: The Next Generation for all the details and profiles of the selected composers.

And many, many thanks to Ted and Mary Jo Shen and Eric Schaeffer! This is gonna be fun!

Happy trails.

2008-06-10T18:53:00.002-04:00

Slow news day.

2008-06-09T12:23:00.003-04:00

Um, how would you feel if you were the guy the New York Times profiled because you got really wasted and were locked in a bar?

Forever archived in the Times would be your name, along with the glowing character reference, "Really wasted but super nice."

And my favorite bit of reportage, "Then, around 4:30, he went into a bathroom. And for reasons that are unclear even to him, he stayed in there for quite a while."

And there's a photo of the dude, no less.

People: if the Times calls you and says, "Hey, we want to do a story about you. You know, about how you were so drunk the other night and couldn't get home?" please say "No," take an Advil, and then move on with your hopefully-otherwise-productive life!

Technical difficulties.

2008-06-05T00:44:00.003-04:00

After some technical difficulties (apparently) my podcast is back online. It appears as though you'll need to re-subscribe, but there's a new episode waiting for you when you do...

Can't promise I'll be updating the 'cast as often as I did when I first started (it's busy times, people!) but I'll try to throw some stuff up there when I can.

Get the podcast here.

My cold, pink heart.

2008-06-03T00:24:00.002-04:00

(100th post! woo!)

OK, so, I caught the last 10 minutes of that Legally Blonde reality TV show tonight.

It's sort of weird. There's Bernie Telsey, saying "I'm sorry, we just don't see you as Elle Woods" to some angular-faced girl who looks exactly like the 10 other angular-faced girls on screen. I suppose this is just a weirdness that's part of the biz...have you ever walked down a hallway at Chelsea Studios and suddenly felt like you're walking through a crowd of clones? It's really creepy.

But I digress. BT names all the finalists, they leave the rehearsal studio or wherever they are and get into a limo. It appears they're driving to Times Square.

"Ohmigod, this is Broadway!" one girl squeals as they drive down ~~said~~ squealed street.

Then they get out at the Palace Theatre.

"Ohmigod, this is the theater where they do Legally Blonde!" someone squeals.

And then they're surprised by...Laura Bell Bundy.

So many squeals.

There is lots of squealing on the show, because, I think, the contestants are so young. There's not so much squealing on Top Chef or Project Runway, but the median age of those contestants is probably greater than 19.

The Legally Blonde reality shows weirds me out. A lot. I don't have anything against it; I don't think it's excessively bad or exploitative. It just makes me squirm! I'm trying to figure out why.

I think a great deal of it is that it hits very close to home. I hate auditions because I want to cast everyone! It breaks my heart to say "Thank you" to one person in a room; I can't imagine saying it knowing it'd be seen by millions of people.

The other thing that's weird is that at the end of the show, the girl wins a real job. I know it's real because I have friends who do it. It seems weird to get a real job through a reality TV show. I can dig getting a fake Donald-Trump-just-invented-this job, or a here's-some-money-to-start-your-own job, but a real job? Weird.

Weird because it seems very much like a candy-coated route to a real job, and it doesn't seem like the contestants get that the real job is not so candy-coated. (At least not in the 10 probably excrutiatingly produced minutes that I saw.) I know performing on Broadway is a dream job, but it is a job. All my friends on Broadway acknowledge they are living the dream, but that doesn't erase the day-to-day jobiness of it. The contracts and the protocol. The finding time to do stuff that's not your job. The stress of figuring out what happens when this job is done, or how this job plays into a career.

A job in the arts is a job, and, like any job, if it's yours, it's hopefully one you love and need to do despite all the little things that make it, well, a job. I think maybe I just want the girls on this TV show, or any young aspiring artist, to know that. Because I'm imagining one of those squealing 19-year-old girls landing her dream job and then crumbling under the reality of the job that it is.

Boy, I must sound jaded, but I'm not! I think maybe it's stemming from the fact that I'm working on literally 5 different shows at the moment, each one I am 100% in love with, but each one feeling like a job simply because they have to get done (and there are actual bosses saying so!).

Or maybe it's just 'cause my fierce-ass friends in Legally Blonde would eat these squealing girls alive backstage at the Palace Theatre. Literally dice them up and enjoy them in leisurely bites, saving the leftovers in tidy Tupperware containers, and bringing their earlobes across the street to dip in their post-show martinis.

Watch out, girls!

Me encanta Tres Ninas.

2008-05-21T12:34:00.001-04:00

Holy crap this was good. Go see it.

This one's for Liz.

2008-05-16T00:23:00.009-04:00

We'll miss you!

But I'll be coming to visit in no time at all!

Gwon across the pond.

2008-05-13T13:53:00.001-04:00

Ordinary Days lands in London this fall!

(And of course you can see it more locally in Pennsylvania this summer!)

To Wii or not to Wii.

2008-05-10T11:07:00.002-04:00

I was walking in the 42nd Street subway station last night, and in the distance I spotted a man handing out pamphlets that said:

Free Wii.

My heartbeat quickened. Visions of me lazing about the apartment, playing Super Mario Galaxy danced in my head. I stepped up my pace, approaching the man with a determined glint in my eye.

It wasn't until my arm was outstretched, palm open to accept the man's offering, that I noticed that the flyer actually said:

Free Will.

Apparently, the pamphlet was one in a series of pseudo-philosophical-maybe-Scientological-mumbo-jumbo, and not an incentive from the Church of Nintendo.

I was much less excited.

Name drop alert.

2008-05-01T01:04:00.003-04:00

I was having dinner with Mo Rocca and some friends at Pastis the other night...

(End of pretentiousness.)

...and he had just been filming this hi-lar-i-ous segment for his blog:

I have to admit, the video is not quite as funny as Mo acting out the whole interview at the dinner table. But it's still quite a riot.

Spot the Tony winner!

2008-04-29T11:20:00.003-04:00

Primary Stages presents
a reading of

BERNICE BOBS HER HAIR
book and lyrics by Julia Jordan
music by Adam Gwon

directed by Joe Calarco
music direction by Alex Lefevre

with
Carey Anderson
Richard Barth
Lindsay Nicole Chambers
Jared Gertner
Herndon Lackey
Adam Overett
Jacqui Polk
Ben Roseberry
Maria Thayer
Casey Tuma
Kate Wetherhead
Valerie Wright
John Lloyd Young

Monday, May 12 @ 5PM

Je vais au cinema.

2008-04-28T01:26:00.002-04:00

Don't know why all this French is popping up on my blog lately.

But...

A little film I scored hits the festival circuit in the coming weeks. It's a funny/touching short called A Work in Progress, by writer and director Keshia Coe. (You know how I love the funny/touching. But not so much the funny touching.)

If you likey the movies, go see the film!

Toronto Lesbian and Gay Film Festival (May)
Connecticut Gay & Lesbian Film Festival (May-June)
New Fest: The New York LGBT Film Festival (June)

Pope? Nope.

2008-04-20T22:20:00.003-04:00

Okay, I'm just gonna say it.

I'm pooped of the Pope.

I'm Poped out. I've been over-Poped.

Don't get me wrong. I'm sure the Pope is a lovely guy. (He sounds a bit like Arthur Slugworth from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, except he wants World Peace instead of Everlasting Gobstoppers.) But you know how the media likes to find a story and stick with it, and well....they stuck with the Pope all right. Even though the papal visit's officially over, the news tonight (97.3% Pope-centric) promised highlights of his trip to continue in the days to come.

Papal B-roll.

I suppose it would be God's m.o. to be media-savvy to the point of exhaustion.

But man, am I ready for that day of rest.

Une des raisons je suis un Jew mauvais.

2008-04-19T11:42:00.002-04:00

Funny.

2008-04-13T15:23:00.001-04:00

OD in NYC.

2008-04-04T22:52:00.008-04:00

Tonight I went to a run-through of the Penn State workshop of Ordinary Days that's being presented at the York Theatre this weekend. The kids are so good! Hope you can come see them -- get your tickets here.

Here are some photos I snapped of the talent monsters this evening:

Gina Duci as Deb

Nathan Gardner and Morgan Faulkner as Jason and Claire

Gina Duci and Nathan Lucrezio as Deb and Warren

Nathan Gardner, Gina Duci, and Nathan Lucrezio as Jason, Deb and Warren

She said/She said.

2008-04-02T23:32:00.006-04:00

Something I love about living in New York: a spur-of-the-moment phone call can land you, minutes later, in the audience of a Broadway show.

Because I am generally what is known as a broke-ass motha-fucka, I tend to see the big Broadway shows either right when they start (when they're giving out free tickets) or after they've been running for ages (when they're giving out free tickets). There is a huge difference in the audiences that make up the early-goers and the late-goers. The early-going audience is, if you are a theater person, everyone you've ever met or worked with, who are all connected to the biz in some way. The late-going audience is all tourists, and, if you are a theater person, you've never felt more anonymous in your life.

When I'm one of the late-goers, as I was tonight, I find that without fail, I am sitting within earshot of a very particular pair of theatergoers.

The breakdown:

[WOMAN 1] Mid to late 50s. Overtly pedantic. Self-proclaimed but misinformed Expert of the Theater. Must be comfortable with Jewish or Long Island dialect.

[WOMAN 2] Mid to late 50s. Woman 1's companion. As if she's never been to the theater before; she might as well be visiting Mars.

Here's some dialogue I overheard tonight:

WOMAN 2: What's that man doing?
WOMAN 1: He's conducting.
WOMAN 2: What's he conducting?
WOMAN 1: An orchestra. There's a live orchestra down there.
WOMAN 2: A live orchestra?
WOMAN 1: Mm hm.
WOMAN 2 (nearly silent): Wow.

More from tonight:

WOMAN 1: Now, this is a Broadway theater.
(WOMAN 2 nods throughout.)
WOMAN 1: But there are also off-Broadway theaters. They're small. Now there are off-Broadway theaters with 300 seats, and off-Broadway theaters with 800 seats, but they're all small.

Now, I know this makes me seem like a horribly arrogant theater cognoscenti, but all I want to do is lean over and say:

ADAM: Actually, off-Broadway theaters by definition are those with 100 to 499 seats. So, there are off-Broadway theaters with 300 seats. But 800 seats a Broadway theater makes. For example, the Golden, current home to the hit Broadway musical Avenue Q, has 805 seats. Now, this is nothing in comparison to the 1,900+ seats of the Gershwin (where Wicked calls home), but, technically, both are Broadway houses.

In my weird fantasy world, the two ladies thank me and, pleased that they've learned something new about the wonderful world of theater, enjoy the show at hand even more than they would have previously.

But in the real world, I'd probably get a dirty look, so I keep my mouth shut.

The real kicker of a conversation I overheard happened in a Broadway theater a couple years ago, between two Women 1s:

WOMAN 1A: What else have I seen lately...? Oh, I just saw that See What I Wanna See musical down at the Public Theater.
WOMAN 1B: Oh, I did not like that show.
WOMAN 1A: Neither did I. That Michael John LaChiusa. He wrote that Wild Party that was on Broadway...
WOMAN 1B: Oh, I did not like that Wild Party.
WOMAN 1A: I don't understand why they keep giving that Michael John LaChiusa millions of dollars to write these Broadway musicals!

At this moment, I just about choked on my own saliva.

Because all I wanted to say was:

ADAM: Actually, Michael John LaChiusa wasn't paid millions of dollars to write those musicals. If one of them was commissioned by the Public, he'd be lucky if he got ten grand to write it, and then, when and if it transferred to Broadway, he'd get a certain small percentage of the box office gross, and that was only as long as it was running, and paid against any advance he may have received from a commercial producer. Here's an article you should read (I keep a copy in my bag) which talks about how he had to put his piano into hock when he was writing his musical Marie Christine, so he could pay his rent. I know all this because I'm a musical theater writer who basically aspires to what Michael John LaChiusa has, and I can tell you firsthand it's not the money. In fact, a couple years from now, I'm gonna write a blog entry in which I correctly refer to myself as a broke-ass motha-fucka.

But, you know, dirty looks. So I kept my mouth shut.

Free perfs this week.

2008-03-30T13:45:00.002-04:00

Stuff by me. Made for you. Free for all:

NO SONG, NO SUPPER
a variety entertainment
conceived by Lynn M. Thomson

featuring The Stage Struck Yankee [1840]
by Oliver Durivage
with Tangents and Interruptions
by the writers of America-in-Play [2008]

playwrights: Beth Blatt, Erin Browne, Lawrence Dukore, Stephanie Fleischmann, Adam Gwon, C.S. Hanson, David Johnston, Andrea Lepcio, Jenny Levison, Quincy Long, David Myers, Dominic Taylor, Susan Tenneriello, Gary Winter

March 31 AND April 7, 2008, 7:00 p.m.
Doors open at 6:45 for exhibits and music

Tribeca Performing Arts Center, Theater 2
199 Chambers Street

www.americainplay.org

###

2008 ASCAP Foundation/Disney Musical Theatre Workshop

Tuesday, April 1 @ 7PM
ORDINARY DAYS
Book, Music and Lyrics by Adam Gwon
When stressed-out grad student Deb loses her most precious possession — the notes to her thesis — she unwittingly starts a chain of events that turns the ordinary days of four New Yorkers into something extraordinary. Told through a series of intricately connected songs and vignettes, ORDINARY DAYS is an original musical about growing up and enjoying the view.

at ASCAP, One Lincoln Plaza (Bway btw 63rd & 64th), 5th Floor

Shiver me timbers.

2008-03-16T20:16:00.003-04:00

This weekend, I went to see the amazing Striking Viking Story Pirates!

They go to schools all across New York City, get kids to write stories, then turn the stories into plays, with puppets and music and hilarity, and perform them for the kids.

They also have an "adult night," which I went to, which is simply a performance of their greatest hits for an audience of grown-ups.

It's fucking hysterical.

One story was about an aspiring fashion designer stuck in a day job doing Computering, until, of course, she drops her Fashion Book and it winds up in the hands of a Fashion Producer who turns our heroine into a One Billionaire.

("This faashion book issss craaaazy! Everything in it issss good!")

There was also one about a boy who falls in love with a girl, but there are complications.

("How come the one girl I like has to be the Devil?")

They also made a couple short films out of the kids' stories, like this one:

The real genius thing is, is that all of this gets kids excited about writing. Fucking brilliant.

Go see their show, give them money, and buy a t-shirt!

(I did.)

Behold the cuteness.

2008-03-07T15:23:00.007-05:00

A little while ago, I was commissioned to write a song for third-graders to sing about a New York City landmark. Since I'd never been, I chose the Empire State Building, and used the gig as an excuse to go up to the top for the first time.

The song ended up as something like:

Elevator, up, up, up!
Faster, faster, yup yup yup!
Higher, higher, dizzy, dizzy
To the top of New York City!

You get the idea.

Yesterday I got a big, fat envelope in the mail, stuffed with drawings the kids made for me to say thanks.

Behold the cuteness.

I s'pose it's official...

2008-03-05T17:52:00.008-05:00

Contracts are signed, and subscription packages are available: Ordinary Days gets its regional premiere this summer!

There's a funny thing that happens as I find myself getting more and more professional gigs with my writing. The strangest thing, the thing that takes the most getting used to, is that, suddenly, other people do stuff to make your show happen.

This probably sounds really stupid, but... As I'm sure is the case for most people, a career as a theater writer begins as an extremely hands-on endeavor. When my first musical premiered, I wrote/produced/cast/music directed/company managed/represented/prop shopped/marketed/fundraised/you-name-it two back-to-back productions, with the help, of course, of about three of my dear friends.

Shortly after that experience, I vowed never to do that again.

But you get the picture: getting your work out there involves a job description with multiple slashes.

These days, having a show up creates an eerie calm. I email someone a script and a score. And soon, with perhaps an email from a marketing director, or a phone call from an orchestrator, voila! There's a theater selling tickets to your show; there's a brochure with your name in it; there's a casting director sending out breakdowns for your roles.

There are people you've never met creating charts like this:

So that other people you've never met can buy tickets to your show!

Don't get me wrong, it's super cool. But it still feels bizarre. It wasn't so long ago that self-producing was my only option for having my work done. (And, you know, I haven't reached a point yet where it's not a possibility, either!) And self-producing, in my experience, literally involves every ounce of your energy, every second of your day, every fiber of your will to make it happen.

So, while I'm a little weirded out that total strangers have now lifted that burden from my shoulders, I'm also a little relieved.

Another side effect of all this is that, because I do have this neurotic feeling that I should be doing more to make this whole thing happen, I'm able to channel that pent-up energy into other projects that still need my attention.

Let's just say that, instead of me worrying about why that actor's being a pain in the ass, or why there aren't enough postcards, or addressing the feeling of guilt for not being able to pay people enough for their time, Bernice Bobs Her Hair is getting A LOT of dance music for its reading in May!

Buy or die.

2008-02-19T18:25:00.002-05:00

Tix on sale now for:

REACH THE SKY: SONGS BY ADAM GWON
Monday, March 3 @ 7:30PM

Launching the NEO Spotlight Series at the York Theatre!

Join composer/lyricist Adam Gwon and friends for an evening of brand-new songs and excerpts from Adam's musicals Ordinary Days and Ethan Frome. Lending their uber-talents will be Jill Abramovitz, Jared Gertner, Michael Hunsaker, and Natalie Weiss, with the fab-o Vadim Feichtner at the keys.

Tickets are $20 and are available here.

Guys: I'm performing in this one (no, that's not a typo), which is totally terrifying...in a good way. So come on out, be rowdy, and shower me with moral support!

Mandate of the Man Date.

2008-02-15T10:47:00.003-05:00

I think I've missed a memo somewhere, re: man dates.

Rewind about a month ago. I went on a date with a dude I met on New Years. We went to dinner, and afterwards, he announced that he was going to go grocery shopping. So, I said, goodnight, and a-grocery shopping he went.

The next day I happened to see my friend through whom I met the dude.

"Oh, yeah," she said. "It was a cue. You were supposed to go grocery shopping with him. [Emphasis mine.] He was confused."

Quoi?

I told this little episode to my friend Lanna, who gets a kick out of the Stunning Failures of the guys I date.

"I was supposed to go grocery shopping with him?" I asked.

"Red flag," snorted Lanna. "Red flag."

Fast-forward to the present. Met a guy for coffee, and when we were through, he said he was going to Best Buy, and did I want to come with.

"Sure," I said, having some time to kill.

We went to Best Buy and played Nintendo together.

So, apparently guys like to share mundane retail experiences with one another. Who knew.

Next time I'm out with a guy, I'll bring along that towel rack I've been meaning to return to Bed, Bath & Beyond.

I mean, a return must be, like, second base.

Happy Valentines Day!

2008-02-14T00:46:00.002-05:00

Yo' momma on YouTube.

2008-02-13T19:34:00.001-05:00

OK, not your momma. Songs of mine.

Check out some clips here. And here. And here and here.

Diddy daddle.

2008-02-10T00:29:00.000-05:00

I was flipping channels the other day, and up comes a commercial for the TV adaptation of A Raisin in the Sun, starring none other than P. Diddy.

Excuse me, I mean Sean Combs.

There was something about Mr. Diddy-Combs' performance in the commercial that didn't ring true. I remember when this stage production was on Broadway a couple years ago, and Diddy/Sean was greeted with middling reviews. But I couldn't figure out why he seemed so fake, so unbelievable in the clips on the commercial.

I continued channel surfing, and the answer was revealed to me.

On MTV was an episode of Diddy's show "Making the Band." The Didster was laying in to one of the contestants on the show, who apparently had a bad attitude. His words were so...striking...that I actually wrote them down:

DIDDY: There's a very contagious disease in our community. The disease of bitchassness.

Okay, sorry, before we continue, I have to preface: Diddy was delivering these lines with the utmost, intense seriousness. Now where were we...

DIDDY: There's a very contagious disease in our community. The disease of bitchassness. Do you have some bitchassness in you? DO YOU???? Because I saw some bitchassness in you when you were talking to your girl. There will be NO BITCHASSNESS at Bad Boy Records.

See, I totally believed P'Sean Diddicombs in that scene. Which is, I suppose, why I didn't believe him in the other. Lorraine Hansberry, I hope you're taking notes.

Please God someone end the writers' strike.

Questions for Carrie.

2008-01-25T18:48:00.000-05:00

I've been watching a lot of TBS lately, because holy mother of God there are a lot of shitty shows on TV in the midst of this writers' strike. TBS airs only two shows and airs them over and over and over again: "Family Guy" and "Sex and the City."

Fine by me.

I like "Sex and the City." I don't have HBO, so I haven't really seen any of the full, filthy, premium cable episodes. But on TBS, it's a pleasant diversion. I do, however, have several questions for Carrie Bradshaw.

1) When Carrie goes out on a good date, the guy always walks her back to her apartment. Quoth the real-life New York dater: Come again? One of the most awkward things about dating in New York is, in my experience, that dates inevitably end at some sort of public transportation depot. In 6 years of post-college dating, I've only been walked back to my apartment (not counting the they're-already-invited-up scenarios) twice. Am I just dating the lazy ones?

2) When Carrie goes out on a bad date, the date usually ends with a Snappy Remark and a Dramatic Exit. My bad dates usually end with a Patronizing Hug. Does my life need zippier writing?

3) Carrie spends a lot of money on designer clothing and wears said clothing Out on the Town. I recently spent too large a percentage of my weekly income on a designer sweater (an ivory-colored one, I know, big mistake), wore it to a party, was doused with red wine, and now have a designer label dustrag with which to clean my apartment. What gives?

Maybe I'm just more of a Charlotte. She sorta makes sense.

Help me.

2008-01-22T21:18:00.001-05:00

I can't stop eating my No Pudge Brownies.

I think the "no-pudge" aspect is nullified when you keep shoveling them into your mouth.

(Two food-related posts in a row. Hmm....)

Say cheese.

2008-01-16T19:36:00.000-05:00

There are many little absurdities in the world. Here's one.

You know how, on the packaging of some food items, they'll print a recipe that features a creative use for that food item? I bought some cheese recently, and as I was making a sandwich, I noticed the recipe printed on the wrapper. I'm typing it for you here, verbatim:

DELI DELUXE Sub Sandwich

Prep: 5 minutes

1 bread roll or French bread roll
2 Tbsp. KRAFT Mayo Real Mayonnaise or MIRACLE WHIP Salad Dressing
2 KRAFT DELI DELUXE American Cheese Slices
6 slices OSCAR MAYER VARIETY-PAK Meats, any variety
Lettuce
Tomato slices

SPREAD roll with mayo.

FILL with remaining ingredients.

Um...

That was the recipe.

I'm trying to imagine the target audience for this kind of thing.

"Honey, this is delicious! What is it?"

"Well, I was at the supermarket, and I picked up some of this stuff called cheese. Stanley told me it was pretty good, even though I don't usually go for those exotic, frou-frou kind of things Stanley's always going on about. But anyway, I got it home and realized I didn't know what to do with it! Luckily, they had this recipe on the outside of the package, so I just followed that."

"It's delicious!"

"I know. The recipe called for mayo but -- get this -- I used mustard instead."

"You're a regular Chef Boyardee! Why you don't have your own show on The Food Network, I'll never know."

"Say cheese!"

"What?"

"That'll be my catchphrase. On my show. On the Food Network. Say cheese!"

"Oh, honey! You're so clever! What will you think of next!"

Say hello to my little friend.

2008-01-11T21:13:00.001-05:00

My new nephew, Caiden, born on Christmas Eve!

I wanna hold your hand.

2007-12-18T10:49:00.000-05:00

So, last week I was out at Penn State University, for a workshop production of my musical Ordinary Days. It was staged in this gem of a space, a former cow-showing palace (I know, how fantastic!) converted into this great thrust stage. For the non-theater readers, a thrust stage is one that has audience on three sides, so from the audience, you can look out and see other audience members across from you as well.

The other tidbit to know for this story is that the penultimate song in Ordinary Days is a song called "I'll Be Here," which is a bit of an emotional doozy, especially in the context of the entire show.

So, during a talkback after one of the performances, a girl raised her hand and said (and I'm paraphrasing here), "This is going to sound cheesy, but after 'I'll Be Here,' I looked out at the audience and so many people were touching -- arms across shoulders, leaning together, holding hands -- and, I thought, that's the reason we do theater."

And, sentimental fool that I am, I didn't find that cheesy. I thought it was cool.

My friend and collaborator Sarah has a great story about her favorite theater experience. It was a play staged in a barn in Iowa in the middle of the winter, and each audience member was given a foil-wrapped baked potato to hold, to keep their hands warm.

What makes Sarah's story so great is that it's simply a physicalization of what can happen in theater. We get a little gift to hold in our hand and keep us warm.

The thing that struck me about that particular performance of Ordinary Days was the tangible sense of communion that can only happen in live theater. That, somehow, an invisible hand reaches through space and across time from the pages of a script, through a group of actors and into an audience. There was a particular confluence of events, a layering of awarenesses, that made the communal energy of that performance especially potent -- that the audience was largely friends, teachers, and colleagues of the student actors, and that somehow the real lives of the students, their backstories and their dreams, intersected with those of the characters they were playing. So the audience was really watching these real lives, filtered (if you will) through the Pantone-hued gel of these fictional lives. And I guess fiction is reflective, so this fiction-coated reality shone back like a little mirror on the lives of the audience members.

It's neat that theater does that. That it lives and breathes, literally, right in front of you. That we come together physically in the making of it and the watching of it. It's like the girl said in the talkback, it's why we do it. It's why I make it, why I go see it. In its best moments, it guides us out of our lives and into another world, but there is an invisible hand, as warm and comforting as a baked potato, that leads everything back to ourselves. And somehow, after being touched by that hand, we aren't quite the same as we were before.

OD in PA.

2007-12-11T17:55:00.000-05:00

I'm in Pennsylvania for this, the first staging of my musical Ordinary Days.

Find yourself in State College this week? Performances are Wednesday @ 5PM and Saturday at 8PM at the Pavilion Theater on Penn State's campus.

Sweet nothings.

2007-12-06T15:33:00.000-05:00

Life, like peppermint candy, comes in full circles.

Today, I was indulging in a Starbucks Peppermint White Mocha on what happens to be my birthday, and the confluence of these two events sent my thoughts leaping backward through time on a candy-coated trail of remembrances.

A little less than a year ago, my wintertime Starbucks obession was the Gingerbread Latte. I would grab one every day on my way to a workshop of The Glorious Ones, where I watched Graciela Danielle turn actors into trees in a rehearsal studio in Chelsea. Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty, the authors of the show, had invited me into the workshop, since they were mentoring me through the Dramatists Guild.

Pretty much every day, I'd come in from the cold with my Gingerbread Latte, and, before rehearsal started, I'd take out my notebook and scribble some lyrics bouncing in my head from the project I was writing under Lynn & Stephen's guidance. A quick glimpse back at my notebook reveals the following snippet:

Sometimes I wish I were invisible
Able to vanish without quite vanishing.

Which never made it into the show, except to inform this:

The city tends to make me feel invisible.
Which, of all the superpowers,
Is the one I'd like to have,
But it isn't very handy
When you're trying to get noticed
As a pioneer of visual art.

But I digress.

So, tonight, as my Birthday Present To Myself, I have tickets to see The Glorious Ones in production up at Lincoln Center, where I'll get to see those actors turn into trees with costumes and lighting and sets! And, next week, I'm headed out to see the first production of Ordinary Days, the show that, less than a year ago, was nothing but scribbles in a notebook and notes in my head.

This all brings me back to my first birthday after graduating from college. I came home, tipsy from a night of partying, to a message on my answering machine from Lynn Ahrens. I was drunk and 22; needless to say, I freaked out.

A few weeks before, at the suggestion of a friend, I had participated in a series of master classes at the now-defunct Musical Theatre Works. At one class, I presented a couple songs for Lynn and Stephen. After the class, I dashed out to use the bathroom, but Lynn grabbed me by the arm before I could make it out the door. She wanted a CD and my phone number; I had both, so I gave them to her.

And then, her phone call, on my birhtday, which introduced me to the musical theater producer up at Lincoln Center, which, tonight, is presenting Lynn and Stephen's latest, which I'm going to see for my birthday, after drinking a Peppermint White Mocha, the winter speciality from Starbucks, whose other winter specialty is the Gingerbread Latte, which I drank last year, on my way to the workshop of Lynn and Stephen's latest, which I'm going to see tonight, for my birthday.

Whew.

I think I've forgotten where I was going with all of this.

Perhaps, like all full circles, this post has no point.

(Rim shot.)

Golden rules!

2007-12-02T12:34:00.000-05:00

I went to a Special Sneak Preview of The Golden Compass movie last night. It's a pretty great film adaptation of the novel, but really, it served as a welcome reminder of how freakin' awesome the whole "His Dark Materials" series is.

If you haven't heard of "His Dark Materials," please finish reading this paragraph, put down your mouse, shut down your computer and RUN-DO-NOT-WALK to your nearest bookstore and purchase all three books. It's a trilogy of "young adult" novels -- The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass -- by British author Phillip Pullman. I use the term "young adult" in quotes because, while it's geared to the same audience, it makes the Harry Potter series seem like "Go Dog Go."

Reading "His Dark Materials" will, quite literally, change your life. I won't give anything away, except to say that every page of the three-book series is mind-alteringly brilliant. The story is epic beyond belief (and even more epic than you think, once you get to the end), the characters, both good and evil, are richly textured, the philosophical implications mind-boggling.

The trilogy expanded my world-view and imagination to such an extent that, along with three other friends equally overwhelmed by the series, I bought plane tickets to London to see an unfortunately lame-wad stage adaptation at the National Theatre. The film version does the magic of the story much more justice.

I read an article about the film, which opens in wide release next week, that said they've only made the first film in the trilogy, and are waiting to see if it's a hit until they make the final two. So, if you believe in anything good in the world, go see, and fall in love with, this movie. Then read the books and have your life changed forever. (The movie's good, but the books are much better, of course.)

Note: I was not paid by either Scholastic or New Line to write this post, but am happy to accept payment.

Desperate housewives.

2007-11-29T13:50:00.000-05:00

Wow, there are some horrible people in the world. In the TV movie in my head, Lori Drew looks like Ann Coulter. Hmm...

It's in the mail.

2007-11-28T01:06:00.001-05:00

Finally, an e-card site for those occasions when Hallmark just isn't quite right:

Pop!

2007-11-27T22:58:00.000-05:00

I so don't write pop music.

I love pop music. I just don't think I could write it even if I tried.

Sometimes I really wish that I could. So many writers in my generation are writing really great pop music, and sometimes I wish I could play on their team, too.

I once relayed this grass-is-always-greener sentiment to Ira Weitzman, who runs the musical theater program up at Lincoln Center Theater. He sagely said, "Well, then, who's gonna write the theater music?"

Suddenly I picture the classroom out of "Ferris Bueller's Day Off," with Ben Stein standing at the front:

"Who's gonna write the theater music?"

A pause.

"Theater music?"

"Theater music?"

And then I sheepishly raise my hand.

This has all entered my head, because, when I was writing my show Ordinary Days last year, I think I had convinced myself I was writing a little pop musical. And I was listening to some stuff from it today, and it is so not pop music that it's laughable I even thought it was!

Don't get me wrong, I love it and am really proud of it. It's just not pop music.

Silly Adam! Thinking he could be something he's not!

Blackout.

2007-11-25T00:53:00.000-05:00

Conversations overheard and/or remembered:

L Train, 9am.

1st Girl: I'm trying not to be so Buy-Buy-Buy.
2nd Girl: I know what you mean.
1st Girl: I'm trying to have savings. I mean, I have some savings. By accident.
2nd Girl: [laughs]
1st Girl: No, literally. I was in an accident.

***

Amtrak, noon-ish.

Sean: What did I do wrong today?
Sean's Future Ex: You got so frustrated this morning when all I wanted to do was sleep a little more.
Sean: You wanted a toasted bran muffin.
Sean's Future Ex: You could have been making it and LETTING ME SLEEP.

***

Fort Greene, evening.

Liz: ...Prague.
Adam: Prague. Maybe that's where I should go on vacation. I've heard it's cheap and arty.
Liz: That was, like, ten years ago.
Adam: True.
Liz: Didn't we see a play about that?
Adam: About Prague?
Liz: Not about Prague. Something about AIDS, a guy from Rent...
Adam: Wha?
Liz: And a girl.
Adam: I have no memory of this. It took place in Prague?
Liz: Maybe it was Amsterdam. But they talked about Prague.
Adam: Are you sure this wasn't a novel?
Liz: Yes.
Adam: ...
Liz: ...
Adam: ...
Adam: ...
Liz: We were in the West Village.
Adam: Ohhhhhh...Red Light Winter...
Liz: Red Light Winter.
Adam: That was Amsterdam.
Liz: But there was a line about Prague being passe.
Adam: I don't remember.
Liz: You remember the play though? I'm not crazy?
Adam: Yeah yeah yeah, they all give each other AIDS at the end, blackout.

Talkin' turkey.

2007-11-17T00:36:00.001-05:00

It's no secret that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, because it involves two of my favorite things: eating and wearing sweaters. It's just when the weather turns colder -- and the merino wool comes out of the drawer -- that my mind turns to thoughts of pumpkin pie, turkey gravy, and stuffing.

But in recent years, there's been a more telling sign that Thanksgiving is on its way: I'm contacted by random, old friends from across the country telling me they've just seen me on The Food Network.

It's true; a couple years ago I appeared in an episode of "Good Deal with Dave Lieberman," a show whose premise is that every week, Dave, the chef-on-a-budget, invites some of his pals over to his apartment to share a meal he's prepared on a twentysomething-in-New-York's budget. I was one of the Very Special Friends on the Very Special Thanksgiving Episode, which, if I'm remembering the release form I signed before filming the episode, is set to air pretty much in perpetuity every Thanksgiving.

And so, like clockwork, random people from my past come out of the woodwork every November and tell me they've just seen me on national TV.

This year, apparently, I've come up in the world, and I'm featured in the opening credits of every single episode. I don't watch the show, so this is all hearsay, but I've heard a detailed description of myself raising a glass of red wine, which, in fact, I did during the shoot. (They get you really drunk.)

There were several takes of me adeptly serving green beans (harder than it sounds), which I was sad to say did not make it to the final cut.

The funny thing -- and I hope some Food Network heavies don't hunt me down and lay claim to my first born for saying so -- is that I'm not really friends with Dave Lieberman. I just met him that day, and haven't ever seen him since.

Really, I just did the show so I could eat two Thanksgiving meals in one year. (The show was filmed in the summer -- we were told to dress and act as if it were the fall. For our pre-dinner conversation, we went around the table and shared what we were for Halloween. It was July.)

Anyhoo, this is a funny little thing about Adam in autumn. I always forget about it until someone says, "I saw you on the Food Network!" and then I know that my favorite holiday is right around the corner.

My favorite part of a musical...

2007-11-14T10:12:00.000-05:00

(Please sing the title of this post to the tune of "It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood...")

You know what my favorite part of writing a musical is? It's that point you reach when you're 3 or 4 songs away from your first draft. I like it because there's an adreneline rush, and the musical seems to almost finish itself. The character's voices are second nature by now, the musical world of the show is running in your veins, notes and rests like plasma and platelets in your bloodstream. The story's in place and you've just got to fill in the gaps. If all has gone well, you've got a few killer tunes already, and there's a push in writing these last few to make them really great -- a last gasp to top everything you've written so far. Also, there's a total grasp of the vocabulary of the show, and at this point, you're able to twist the existing vocabulary into all sorts of neat storytelling tricks. I find that the last 3 or 4 songs I write for a show are often the glue that holds a show together, craft-wise. Writing the last few songs feels to me the most liberated part of the whole process, for the very reason that all the rules of the show are already in place.

But the real joy of this moment in the process is knowing that, soon, other people are gonna get involved! And that, for the lonely, lonely writer, is the best part of all.

If you couldn't guess, I've reached this favorite of moments with my latest musical, Bernice Bobs Her Hair, and I'm tapping my toes in anticipation.

Strike two.

2007-11-10T12:47:00.000-05:00

So, you can't watch new TV shows, or see a Broadway play.

Good thing you can read a book, rent a movie, go to the cinema, ride a bike, catch up with an old friend, call your mom, hit the gym, write a letter, surf the internet, learn to knit, get some work done, re-enact historical events, get your hair cut, dress up real nice, go out for sushi, take a stroll, sit in the park, go shopping, visit the zoo, see a ballet, check out some downtown theater, clean your apartment, write a song, plant a tree, ride the subway aimlessly, take a roadtrip, go to a museum, go shopping, buy a used book, listen to some music, attend a symphony, sit in a coffeeshop, drive somewhere new, look up your exes online, sew up the holes in your old pants, mail some postcards, invent a new recipe, throw a party, do your dishes, start a website, read the paper, do a crossword puzzle, refine your sudoku skills, look up a new word, start studying a new language, sell some stuff on eBay, ask someone out on a date, buy a present for someone, donate your old clothes, go to the top of the Empire State Building, balance your checkbook, draw a picture, go out for a beer, polish your dance moves, make a new friend, spellcheck your email, recycle, drink hot chocolate, talk politics, do jumping jacks, plan a vacation, put on the radio, do the robot, think of something profound, organize your receipts, have people over for wine and Oreos, examine your life choices, pet a dog, fall in love, dump someone, make sure all your clocks were set back an hour, dust off your tap shoes, make your bed, sleep late, wake up early, update your resume, sketch out your family tree, play Twister, start a poker night, volunteer somewhere, do karaoke, dust, carve a pumpkin, blog.

Words, words, words.

2007-11-06T23:39:00.001-05:00

I've been obsessed recently with this beautiful, beautiful lyric by singer-songwriter Sufjan Stevens. How he's sewn together this patchwork quilt of someone's life, on the effect of that life on his life, just by listing the simplest of things.

Here ya go: (It's called "Casimir Pulaski Day")

Golden rod and the 4-H stone
The things I brought you
When I found out you had cancer of the bone

Your father cried on the telephone
And he drove his car to the Navy yard
Just to prove that he was sorry

In the morning through the window shade
When the light pressed up against your shoulder blade
I could see what you were reading

Oh the glory that the lord has made
And the complications you could do without
When I kissed you on the mouth

Tuesday night at the bible study
We lift our hands and pray over your body
But nothing ever happens

I remember at Michael's house
In the living room when you kissed my neck
And I almost touched your blouse

In the morning at the top of the stairs
When your father found out what we did that night
And you told me you were scared

Oh the glory when you ran outside
With your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied
And you told me not to follow you

Sunday night when I cleaned the house
I find the card where you wrote it out
With the pictures of your mother

On the floor at the great divide
With my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied
I am crying in the bathroom

In the morning when you finally go
And the nurse runs in with her head hung low
And the cardinal hits the window

In the morning in the winter shade
On the first of March on the holiday
I thought I saw you breathing

Oh the glory that the lord has made
And the complications when I see his face
In the morning in the window

Oh the glory when he took our place
But he took my shoulders and he shook my face
And he takes and he takes and he takes

Lazy boy.

2007-11-04T12:00:00.000-05:00

In geometry class, my favorite thing was the statement:

A square is always a rhombus, but a rhombus is not always a square.

I remember smiling and drawing a box around this sentence when I wrote it in my notebook. I liked the truth and the poetry of it. Graceful and absolute.

Being the nerdy boy I was, I brought up this sentence with my friends later in the day. To my complete surprise, they didn't even understand it.

"A square is always a rhombus, but a rhombus is not always a square? What? I'm confused," they said.

I tried to explain. "Er, well, you can't really say it any more plainly. A square is always a rhombus, because, you know, a rhombus is a quadrilateral with four equal sides. But a rhombus isn't necessarily a square, because it could be, like, a parallelogram. So...a square is always a rhombus, but a rhombus is not always a square."

Blank stares.

It recently hit me that this square/rhombus relationship -- and the fact that a lot of people don't get it -- applies to a lot of different things.

Let's take the gays. (Why not?)

For instance:

If you solicit sex from strangers in a public restroom, you're gay. But not all gay people solicit sex from strangers in public restrooms.

Or:

If you hate gays, you're a Republican. And probably gay. But not all Republicans hate gays.

(I'm pretty sure about that last one. Or, hopeful, at least.)

I've always found the concept of stereotypes interesting. Because, usually, stereotypes have their origins in some sort of truth, but, per the law of Squares and Rhombuses (Rhombi?) a particular truth is not always -- and, perhaps, is never -- a general truth. That's what makes us humans the wonderfully, frustratingly idiosyncratic creatures we are.

Along those lines, I've decided that I'm part of a new stereotype: the Lazy Gay.

This realization came about the other night, while I was at a bar with a few friends. It was a gay night at a not-usually-gay bar in Brooklyn. The bar was rectangular, a long, narrow space with the bar on the left side, a good deal of comfy couches on the right side, and a minimal alleyway of space in between.

The evening progressed with something of a Gay Bell Curve. When we arrived, the crowd was pretty mixed, and the soundtrack was your typical Brooklyn indie-band kind of thing. Suddenly, an hour in, I noticed that there were lots of gays and songs by the Pussycat Dolls. Then, later, the gays left and the indie-bands returned.

Now, my friends and I spent the entire evening with our beers, sitting in the comfy couch area. At the height of the Pussycat Doll portion of the evening, we noticed that, while the bar was fairly crowded, we were literally the only ones sitting on the couches. The couches took up most of the bar space, so this meant that everyone was standing, herded together in the little room there was next to the bar.

Okay, if there's ever a choice between sitting on a couch and not sitting on a couch, I'm sitting on a couch. And so I dubbed myself a Lazy Gay.

This, too, is a handy phrase for many situations:

"Ooh, Adam, I dig the rugged look. You're bringing sexy back. Why the stubble?"

"Meh, didn't feel like shaving. Lazy Gay."

"Hey, Adam, have you had a chance to write that new song for our eagerly anticipated new musical?"

"Sorry...Lazy Gay."

"Dude, your apartment's a mess."

"Lazy Gay."

I decided that I should start a bar night where there's no option but to sit on couches and have beer brought to you. I shall call it La-Z-Boy.

Hell, you can even pay me a $5 cover and come sit on my couch, drink beer and watch TV. Then I won't even have to leave my apartment.

The moral of all this, I suppose, is that people, like quadrilaterals, are particular creatures. There are trapezoids and rectangles; there are Lazy Gays and Gays Who Like To Stand Up. There's no point in letting generalities guide your life, because they probably won't apply. Life deals in specifics.

So, the next time you meet a rhombus, don't immediately assume he or she is a square. The only way to find out is to measure them and see if their angles are, in fact, 90-degrees.

Pluses and minuses.

2007-10-21T23:17:00.000-04:00

Pluses:

The Dud Avocado by Elaine Dundy. I just finished this fun, knock-your-socks-off little book from the 1950s, recently reissued. Sally Jay Gorce is perhaps the most dynamo narrator I've come across since reading The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time a few years back.

Pushing Daisies on ABC. If you can get past the fact that every episode is basically an hour-long Walgreens commercial (seriously, is it the same narrator?), it's really a charming show. I like it, which means it will be canceled very soon.

Minuses:

Being sick. I've been laid up with a fever/sore throat/stuffy nose/general unpleasantness which refuses to go away. Today I could barely speak, and when I can't speak, I can't write, because I always sing when I write, which is a problem, because I have much to do. Also, today, I had bought two -- yes, two! -- tickets to shows (I never buy tickets to shows) which I had to skip out on because I was immobilized with illness. So I missed I Love a Piano, an Irving Berlin revue a friend of mine is conducting, and Ivo van Hove's The Misanthrope at New York Theatre Workshop, which I was really looking forward to. I may even have to drop another $20 to see it before it goes away. Damn germs.

Well, wasn't that interesting. Aren't you glad you stopped by to read all about my glamourous life? ; )

Sophie's choice.

2007-10-02T00:10:00.000-04:00

It's only just hit me, sort of, that I've written a bunch of musicals.

This morning, I woke up, and dropped a copy of Musical A in the mail to a producer who'd been asking after it. I swung by the dayjob, then had a meeting about Musical B with my playwright collaborator, came home, spent the afternoon writing a song for Musical C, then went to a presentation of Musical D, complete with a live orchestra, to hear its orchestration for the first time.

Someone very recently (I think it was last night, even) asked me which of my musicals was my favorite. Which show, which collaboration. And I found I couldn't answer: it was like I was faced with the question of choosing which child I liked better than the others. I felt guilty even thinking about picking one.

I'm not actually a parent, but maybe this is what it's like.

Or, not really, because shows tend to fall in and out of your mind. And my idea of my "favorite" tends to be whatever is in front of me. Like, tonight's orchestra presentation was for Ethan Frome, which I haven't written anything for in a year. It's just been out there, doing non-writerly things, and in the meantime, I've written 1-and-a-half new shows, and started work on another still.

But then, like children, the shows like different things; they all have different personalities and grow up in different ways. One's just got a demo CD, but one's got an orchestra. With an oboe. How can you not love a kid with an oboe more than a kid without an oboe?

Like siblings, there's always a tendency to compare.

I know: it's like a Bar Mitzvah. Bear with me: it's like, tonight, Ethan Frome had its Bar Mitzvah. It's Ethan's moment, and the other kids, though I love them dearly, will just have to sit quietly for the evening as Ethan gets lots of kisses and fountain pens.

But then I feel bad neglecting the other children, so I have to come home and give them some of the attention they'd been screaming out for while Ethan read his haftorah.

OK, maybe I'm gonna be a bad parent.

Or, maybe this is simply the complicated joy of parenthood. The pleasure of watching each kid grow into their own, unique personage. Of liking one kid because he lends himself to the oboe, and one because he's got that lyric in him. One because you see so much of yourself in him, and another because he's clearly a product of so many people.

So, I've raised a little family. Of musicals. Some are pretty hip, and some are really nerdy. Some like tap dancing and some think it's gay. But what I love about them is that they're never going to be the same ~~person~~ musical.

To finally exhaust the metaphor: Like kids, they all grow up, and there's a joy in knowing that whatever they do, however many or few other lives they touch, it's somehow got to do with you.

One man's trash.

2007-09-27T00:13:00.000-04:00

Today, I did something so laughably, stereotypically, outrageously New York: I bid good money to buy some artsy-fartsy celebrity's trash.

I have a friend who works at Phillips de Pury, a fancy-schmancy auction house that deals in contemporary art. I've been to a couple openings there, and we are talking chi-chi with a capital C.

So, my friend, over drinks a couple weeks ago, tells me that one of their upcoming auctions is a Robert Wilson "loft sale."

"Yeah," he says, "Bob's moving out of his Soho place, and getting rid of a bunch of his stuff."

"Wait," I say, putting down my vodka-something-or-other. "You mean, Robert Wilson is having a yard sale at Phillips de Pury?"

My friend nods, grinning.

Me: "I am sooo there."

Because, after all, who doesn't want to cherish an avant-garde theater director's used toothbrush as his very own?

I go to the viewing today (alas, I can't make it to the actual auction this weekend) and my friend gives me a guided tour.

"Here are some chairs," points out my friend. "And a whole lot of African masks."

There are a whole lot of African masks. Also, there's a pod-like closet unit that comes from a Finnish sanatorium.

"Look at these!"

For only $800, you can take home a collection of...six plastic Disney figurines Robert Wilson got from a Happy Meal in the '80s and found in the back of his closet?

Or, some...placemats that Robert Wilson ate off of? (A bargain at $600.)

"And this is the pen collection," says my friend, and opens a drawer with several fancy fountain pens. (All engraved with "Robert Wilson" or "R.W.," mind you.)

My friend and I are getting giddy.

"He totally got these as gifts! He's getting paid to regift!"

"I know! This is what my drawer looked like after my Bar Mitzvah. Full of fancy pens I didn't want. If only I had known to let Phillips de Pury auction them off for $1,500 a pop!"

The security guard looks at us funny.

So: the part where I sign a piece of paper saying I'll pay Robert Wilson to regift something to me.

It's a cute little blue-and-green foam playtable and chair set. My sister's expecting a boy in December, so I've had my Cool Baby Things Radar switched on. And this is really unique and fun, and comes with a good story.

I fill out a bid sheet, and now I just wait til the weekend to see if I win.

My bid was considerably less than the "estimated value." Cute as it is, it's still a table at a yard sale, Bob. I don't care how many autistic Tibetan children sat around it eating cookies in slow motion.

He set the word 'free' to a note so high nobody can reach it.

2007-09-19T22:04:00.000-04:00

My insanely talented friend Jared posted this video on his website:

It features him (and my friends Michelle and Jim!) as part of the cast of the Spelling Bee musical, singing the National Anthem at a Giants game in San Francisco.

There's that moment in the National Anthem:

O'er the land of the free......
And the home of the brave

That always give me goosebumps, because it brings me back to a very specific moment of my growing up. Me, in middle school, at an Orioles game at Camden Yards. The cast of the touring company of Les Mis is there to sing the National Anthem. They sing, they sing, and they get to that part:

O'er the land of the free........

They coast on that note, the sopranos' vibrato shimmering in the springtime air... The tenors leap up a fourth and it's like lightning's struck and the evening's on fire, like the whole stadium is suddenly warm, flooding with the perfumed bathwater of these voices...

And that's when I realize I'm ~~gay~~ gonna spend the rest of my life making music.

(The Spelling Bee crew does a pretty kick-ass job with that moment in the song, by the way. Get your goosebumps a little before minute seven.)

An ode to Crazy Ron.

2007-09-05T20:00:00.000-04:00

My first apartment in New York was a ground-floor studio at 69 First Avenue, that sat nestled behind a delicious mom-and-pop Mexican restaurant from which I would order copious amounts of burritos. The apartment had some personality, with its blue countertops and yellow tiles, and double (non-working) fireplaces, which I painted green. But certainly the most memorable thing about the place was my neighbor, Crazy Ron.

I visited the old stomping ground this afternoon, as I am wont to do when struck with a burrito craving, and was catching up with the guy who owns the Mexican place, and naturally the topic of Crazy Ron came up. (When I lived in the building, I was pretty much known as the one who lived across the hall from the crazy guy.) I asked if Ron was still living in the building, and was told he passed away last summer.

Oh, Crazy Ron.

Crazy Ron was a Liverpudlian who had lived in the building since before I was born. He was round and bald, with a thick accent, and his apartment, the only other one on the ground floor, was a rent-controlled duplex which I'm sure he paid about $5 a month for.

There are many, many stories I could relate about Crazy Ron, but I'll share two here that typify the unique joys and occasional irritation of living across the hall from a stereotypically crazy New York neighbor. (I should preface these stories by saying that I had/have nothing but occasionally-annoyed affection for Crazy Ron, who, for all his outlandishness, was usually kind and always harmless.)

For some reason, I was prone to throwing rather happenin' parties in my little studio apartment, packing them with so many people that the place felt like a crowded dance club on a Saturday night. At about midnight during one of these parties, there's a deafening bang on the door, which I open, and am greeted by Crazy Ron. The music stops. Ron screams at the top of his lungs that if we don't shut the party down, he'll call the police.

Now, I had known Crazy Ron for some time at this point, and I knew that there was no reason to be scared. I knew that Ron had a (sometimes debilitating) penchant for the sauce, so, without skipping a beat, I said, "I'm so sorry, Ron. Would you like to come in for a drink?" And just like that, Ron dropped his rage-filled arms, smiled, and said, "Sure!"

And right on cue, the music went back on, the conversations started back up, and Ron spent the next hour or so being passed from friend to friend, with whom he chattered on about Vietnam, dirty bombs, and the way the world was before we were born.

Here's a photo of Crazy Ron, with my friend David, at that party:

There was only one occasion where Crazy Ron crossed some sort of Crazy-But-Not-Too-Crazy line. It started one night where I was meeting with my friend Courtney at the apartment. Ron knocked on the door and asked if he could borrow five dollars to buy a burrito. Now, I had lent Ron, like, twenty bucks at one point before, which he did pay me back in full, but I wasn't about to become an ATM, so I declined. Ron left without any kind of commotion, and I didn't think anything of it.

About 2am that morning, I was awoken by the sound of the phone ringing. Not really awake at all, I didn't realize it was the phone until the answering machine kicked in, and I heard Crazy Ron muttering on the other end.

"I can't believe you wouldn't lend me $5 for a burrito! Neighbors help each other. If you ever need help, I'm not helping you!"

Click.

Oh, Crazy Ron, I thought. And went back to sleep.

The next night, the phone started ringing at about 3am. The answering machine started clicking:

"I can't believe you wouldn't lend me $5 for a burrito! Neighbors help each other! Don't even think about asking me for help if you ever need it. I'm not gonna help you!"

Click.

The next morning, I contacted the landlord, and soon, Ron was back to his charmingly, non-invasively crazy self.

The thing about having the crazy New York neighbor is that it's equal parts hilarity and sadness. The zany, cocktail party-story craziness is usually just a veneer for some deeper, darker crazy. In the case of Crazy Ron, it was alcoholism, which I was certainly aware of, but didn't realize was so serious until the appearance, one day late into my tenure at 69 First Avenue, of a female friend/social worker, who was standing outside the door to Ron's apartment pleading for him to open the door, as he raged, loud and drunkenly, inside.

That's not to say that Ron's crazy was completely the result of the booze. I had plenty of crazy sober moments with Ron that I cherish because of their sheer, earnest wackiness.

One evening, there's a knock on the door. It's Ron.

"You've inspired me," he says.

"Oh. Really?" I say.

"I made you this."

He hands me a piece of paper, painted orange with watercolor and then covered -- and I mean covered -- with geometric shapes and squiggles drawn in magic marker. It's a little piece of art.

"Wow, thanks!" I say. And I do mean it.

Ron nods and goes back into his apartment.

I look at my gift and turn it over. On the back is scrawled, 'To Adam, From your neighbor Ron."

Totally fucked.

2007-09-04T02:17:00.001-04:00

"We cannot afford anything in Queens."

There's a moment you know you're fucked; it's when you receive those six little words in an email and know they're true.

To backtrack:

My dear friend Kelda, known by some as the Diamond of the Midwest, was in town this weekend, with joyous news of the possibility of her moving back to New York. On Sunday night, we dined with Kelda's quintessentially New York Aunt Bridget, who doled out advice on many subjects, one of them being the potential purchase of Kelda's potential new New York apartment.

"Queens," she said.

Now, this is a word easily spoken by someone who lives in a superfab apartment on the Upper West Side that she's owned for 20 years. But Kelda's Aunt Bridget is nothing if not sage, and besides, Kelda and I knew it was probably the only place she could afford. We both said the word out loud, with a look of effort as if we were trying to blow smoke rings for the first time.

"Queens."

Later in the evening, Kelda and I waited on line to use the fancy bathrooms in the fancy restaurant where we ate.

"Tomorrow, let's go to Queens, and check it out," Kelda suggested.

Now, readers of my blog will know that, every now and then, I am bitten by the New York real estate bug, which usually leaves me with a stinging, itchy welt.

"Let's go to Queens," I replied. I could probably afford something in Queens. And if Kelda lived there, too, then it wouldn't be so bad.

We met the next morning and took the train to Queensboro Plaza. It was a lovely morning, as it has been all weekend, and we wandered a somewhat sketchy and deserted part of town.

Kelda, forever the optimist:

"Well, there are definitely cheap eats around here," as we passed a grungy take-out place coated in a viscous layer of beige. "And entertainment." (We were passing a less-than-classy strip club.)

My spirits sinking, we wandered some more, turning south and connecting the dots between subway stops. Suddenly, we both saw it: a corner building, gorgeous red brick, windows trimmed in green. A street-level cafe with funky blue chairs on the sidewalk.

Kelda hit me.

"Signs of hipness! Signs of hipness!" we exclaimed, pointing frantically east.

Sure enough, we stumbled onto a little enclave called Hunters Point. Cute little restaurants, a smoothie bar, hip young people! Right by the subway! Blocks from the river!

"Queens...!" I said, nodding, as if made unexpectedly proud by a delinquent son or daughter.

"Queens!" skipped Kelda. There were new buildings going up everywhere, but it was Labor Day, so all the sales offices were closed. Kelda whipped out a notebook and jotted the names of all the buildings we passed, to look up on the internet later.

We were back in Manhattan within minutes.

"That was fast!" I said.

"Queens!" smiled Kelda.

A few hours later, Kelda sends me an email:

"We're fucked. We cannot afford anything in Queens."

She then listed the starting prices for all the buildings we passed in Hunters Point, the smallest of which was a cool half-a-million bucks.

Queens.

It's true, in the racket that is New York City real estate, we're all totally fucked.

And all I have to say is:

BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH.

Life/art, art/life.

2007-09-03T00:33:00.001-04:00

Labor Day Weekend, 2007: a very good weekend, a weekend not yet over. Visits from out-of-town family, out-of-town friends; quintessential New York events packed with people, quintessential New York restaurants deserted by all the people who skipped town; gorgeous weather and time to be lazy in it. There are few pleasures in life greater than strolling through New York on a summer evening with good company after a good meal.

This past year I've been particularly in tune with all the little things about living in New York that make me happy, mostly because I soaked them up and put them into my latest musical, Ordinary Days. I had one session during my writing fellowship last year where the guest artist encouraged us to visit the Metropolitan Museum as an exercise in getting inspiration from a artistic medium totally different than the one we're working in. A few months later, feeling a bit stuck and panicked at a first-reading deadline a few too-short months away, I took a day and went to the Met, notebook in hand, and, as those of you who've seen the show will know, a good deal of the show was a direct result of this visit to the Met.

For example:

Claude Monet, "Camille Monet in the Garden at Argenteuil"

WARREN

This painting reminds me
Of people like us
Thousand of tiny specks
Huddled together
In random arrangements
That nobody expects.

And also:

Paul Cezanne, "Still Life with Apples and a Pot of Primroses"

WARREN

So, this is a painting of what?

DEB

It's a painting of apples.

WARREN

That's right.
That's right!

Ordinary Days feels to me like my most personal project to date, and not because it reveals any dark secrets of my soul, but because so many little pieces of my ordinary days found their way into it. Afternoons I've spent at the Met, the flea market on my block, the view from my bedroom window. It's as if the show is a double-decker bus tour through my life in New York, with nothing particularly major on the docket, but that somehow hits very close to home. A portrait of a life with nothing but a pencil and a favorite T-shirt on the canvas.

I suppose that's one thing that I hope Ordinary Days is about: that the smallest things, the ones we often ignore, are a lot of times the ones that are indelibly meaningful. The ones that make us human.

Humanity as a paper clip: one of those lessons you'll never learn from a social studies textbook.

Victory, fast and slow.

2007-09-01T11:33:00.000-04:00

I spent Friday at the U.S. Open, and among the matches I saw was this one, an epic chapter in the monomyth of boy wonder Novak Djokovic. It was pretty much edge-of-your-seat theater for nearly five hours. Good times.

On the other end of the spectrum, my new faves Sania Mirza and Mahesh Bhupathi kicked some American tail in, like, 10 minutes over at the mixed doubles court. Good fast times.

Victories come at all speeds. (But usually with 120mph serves.)

Humorous.

2007-08-28T03:52:00.000-04:00

OK, this is really funny, poor girl:

Stu-stu-studio.

2007-08-23T11:41:00.000-04:00

I spent the bulk of yesterday in the recording studio laying down a CD of my latest musical Ordinary Days, with the uncannily ridiculous talents of Jill Abramovitz, Jared Gertner, Leah Horowitz, Michael Hunsaker, and piano-meister Alex LeFevre.

I brought my camera to take some fun, "We Are The World"-like photos of the session, but naturally, I didn't check the camera battery before I came, and it was dead on arrival. (That's something so telling about this digital age; you spend oodles on really fancy, amazing technology, only to be foiled by something like battery power...!)

Anyway, I did manage to take -- with my cellphone -- this pic of Leah doin' her thang...

...though it's not a particularly fun, exciting, or musical photo, and I will say the session was definitely fun, exciting and musical. A picture's worth a thousand words, but maybe not a thousand musical notes...

We're back in the studio early next week to finish up the disc, and then hopefully I'll have some spankin' new tracks to share!

Ghosts.

2007-08-17T11:59:00.000-04:00

During a recent stretch of boredom, I took to Google and found this blogpost, on the topic of a former teacher of mine. It might not be terribly amusing to most, but those who knew David will be in stitches, because it's so quintessentially him.

David Bucknam was a musical theater performance teacher I had my freshman year of college. Through a random twist of fate, which I'm still not sure of to this day, I was placed as an incoming freshman into a group of older students at Playwrights Horizons Theatre School, the NYU-based studio where I did most of my undergrad theater training. The older kids got to take different classes than the rest of the freshman, including this musical theater performance class taught by David.

It's not surprising that his former students have littered the web with anecdotes from his class; he had the wonderful knack for being both droll and inspirational at the same time. I, too, had a conference with him, as described in the above link, and I actively remember it to this day. David was meeting with us one-on-one, and so the rest of the class hung out in a studio across the hall while the conferences were going on. Before I went in, I was playing through someone's song on the piano in the other room, and I went into my conference and sat down on the couch with David. He looked at me and asked, "Who was that playing the piano over there?" and I said it was me, and he put his coffee down on the ground and said, with striking earnestness, "You don't play the piano like that without an unbelievable amount of passion." I sort of shrugged and said thanks, and he said, "You've got something inside you. I think music's gonna bring it out."

The main reason why it was kismet that I got to take David's class my freshman year was because, that spring, David committed suicide. He had some sort of lymphatic cancer, and it grew increasingly debilitating, and David couldn't teach, or make music, and I guess that was too much for him to lose. It was a strange and weepy time, because suicide is always so difficult to understand, let alone for a college freshman, and the tragedy of someone so gifted and charismatic and young (he was probably in his early 30s) was one that struck his students particularly deeply.

At the end of the semester, there was a memorial service for David across the street from our school at the Public Theater. We all knew David was a composer, but we had never heard any of David's music. The memorial was a concert of his work, performed by a group that included then-unknowns Raul Esparza and Julia Murney. This concert was literally a turning point in my life; I was heading up to Ithaca, NY to spend the summer at the Hangar Theatre, and that's when, with David's words and music still tickling my ears, I really started writing.

Every now and then, I think of David in a very present way. In many ways, literally and not-so-literally, he was the catalyst for why I'm doing what I'm doing now. In one of my earliest classes with David, he assigned me a song called "Cast of Thousands," written by Craig Carnelia. It was a song being sung by a guy reflecting on his life; he looks back on it and doesn't see much of note--the street he grew up on, a crack in the sidewalk--but slowly what he begins to see is all the people that have touched his life and how much they've shaped him. I was 17 when I got this song and I totally didn't get it. Not one bit. I came into class with some horrible backstory about how the guy had amnesia and so couldn't really remember anything about his past, and that was why he was singing the song. I shared this and David promptly emptied his water bottle over my head.

Now it's 10 years later, and Craig Carnelia, the guy who wrote that song, is one of my own songwriting mentors. I finally understand that song, and realize that most of my own writing is obsessed with the same idea of adding up, that in life and art, events, stories, and memories that seem fragmented always amount to something. If I look back like the guy in that song, I don't know if I'd see a cast of thousands just yet, but among the few in the bunch would be David Bucknam, probably sitting in the back, giving me a thumbs up, and chatting up the cuter ghosts of my past.

Ethan Frome sings.

2007-08-09T10:18:00.000-04:00

Well, in my world he does.

The creative and producing team behind my Ethan Frome musical ("Team Frome," as we are affectionately known) has started a blog chronicling our ever-creeping journey towards an off-Broadway debut in a new blog, which I've helpfully added to my BlogRoll. The cool thing (to me) about this particular project is that the creatives (the writers, the director, the orchestrator, the MD) as well as the co-producers (Lively Arts Productions) are all under 30, and we've made it our mission to "live the dream" with this show and do it all ourselves (with, of course, the support of the York Theatre Company, an off-Broadway non-profit that's been around since before most of Team Frome's parents even met).

I'll probably be contributing some blog posts to Ethan Frome Sings as we continue our rocky quest for the holy grail -- er, I mean, an off-Broadway production. So, I hope you'll check it out every now and then. It's like a reality show, except it's actually real!

Spin me some theater.

2007-07-17T10:48:00.000-04:00

I recently saw a good play, and took a good spinning class, two of my favorite things to do. I also recently saw a bad play and took a bad spinning class, two of my favorite things gone awry. For those of you who don't spin (and by that I mean take that intimidating-looking cycling class at the gym), spinning instructors are a lot like plays: there are a lot of bad ones out there, but when you find a great one, they'll change your life. Which got me thinking about other similarities that exist between what makes a good play, and what makes a good spinning class:

1. You gotta grab me.

If I'm not into it after the first ten minutes, I'm gonna zone out to some degree. And after that, it's hard to win me back. Plays change my mind more than spinning instructors, though. You can basically tell from the second the instructor walks into the room if he/she is going to be a dud.

2. Rhythm is everything.

I think one of the most crucial aspects of a writer and director's collaboration in mounting a stage production is finding the rhythm(s) of the piece. It's gotta flow. And it's got to flow in a way specific to that play, a way that supports that particular play's storytelling. This is probably something most people take for granted when a play works -- it simply flows the way it should. But believe you me, it takes a lot of work to make it seem so easy. And did you know there are spinning instructors out there (and more than one, I might add), who actually count out loud a pace you're supposed to match that doesn't match the beat of the music they are playing?? Did these people grow up on Mars? Where do they come from?

3. Variety is good.

You know, that makes sense.

4. Audience participation is bad.

No, I will not raise my hand when you ask, "Who's up for it?!" Trust me, I am an active participant in your event if I am there, engaged, and, if appropriate, pedaling.

5. Never, ever ask people to go up into third position without any resistance on the wheel!

OK, that one is just for spinning instructors.

6. You can't please everyone all the time.

There will always be people who walk out at the end saying, "Wow, that was great!" even if you think it sucked. And vice versa: there will always be someone who doesn't like even your most favorite of plays/spinning classes. So, as a writing mentor once told me, just do what you feel is good, and eventually, hopefully, someone else will think it's good too.