Everybody Was Friendly

Last night I went back to see the current revival of Thornton Wilder’s OUR TOWN at the Barrow Street Theater in NYC. I wanted a chance to see it again before it closes in a couple of weeks, especially since David Cromer would be returning to reprise his role as the Stage Manager (last night was his first night back — I missed him entirely the first time around).

This is as close to a perfect production of this play that any of us will ever see. I want everyone I know, and everyone I don’t, to go and see it. I wish I had millions of dollars so I could bankroll and extend the run indefinitely and buy every ticket to every performance and hand them out to random people on the street.

This revival of this play should be subsidized by our government, and every high school kid in this city (and every other) should be able to go see it. If we had a national theater, in which great productions of great plays were kept in repertory for years, this OUR TOWN would have to be the first entry. It gives backbone to the endangered conviction that live theater, done well, not only still matters, but is crucial, vital, important, and necessary.

If you can, and even if you think you can’t, go and see this while you still have the chance. Bring a friend. Bring three friends. It is one of those experiences in the theater you will never forget. Especially for those people who hate theater, or don’t get it, or have stopped going because it’s always so bad; or for those people who feel disconnected, cut-off, anxious, overworked, unmoored, hopeless — this play is for you.

Okay, now that I’ve shaken the tress, some particular thoughts I had while watching this OUR TOWN:

First, I am reminded that OUR TOWN is The Great American Play. In my experience, ever since I first became aware of this play as a teenager, OUR TOWN has always been synonymous with cloying sentimentality, with white-bread, ’safe’ entertainment, with being that play that every high school puts up a production of, because it’s so cute, easy, and will offend no one. Look up “bourgeois” in the dictionary and you’re be sure to find a mention of OUR TOWN, that simple, boring play.

I have news for you: OUR TOWN is shocking. It’s dark, full of despair and longing and deep, deep pathos.

The list of virtues that make OUR TOWN so great is long, and includes the fine balance achieved of bottomless darkness and real humor and light; flawless construction; wonderful, simple, unpretentious language. But most of all what makes this play monumental, in its quiet, unassuming way, is the fact that what happens in it doesn’t happen to the people on stage, per se…it happens to us. Watching the play performed, especially in this production, one is aware that what is happening onstage is a mirror. We see ourselves, we see our family, our friends, our enemies, our city, our country, our town.

The first time I saw this production, a year or so ago, it had been some time since I’d read or seen OUR TOWN, and the first two acts made me shrug. What’s the big deal?, I thought. Why is everyone talking about this production? It wasn’t until the device used in Act Three (I won’t give it away, but it’s a brilliant stroke) that the play hit me, hard. I couldn’t get up out of my seat afterward, and I saw others across from me in the 3/4 round setting that seemed to feel the same.

This time around, I found myself plunged into that well of emotion almost from the very beginning. Maybe it was Cromer’s performance, which I’ll get to in a minute. Maybe it was that I knew what was coming.

If you don’t know the play, stop reading here.

What gripped me this time and kept me in a state of heightened emotional awareness throughout the first two acts was the sensation of watching the proceedings and experiencing everything on an entirely different level: this time, instead of watching exposition or character development, or the unfolding of a ‘plot,’ I was immediately and keenly aware of Wilder’s thesis, that who we are, what we do, and feel, and think, how we communicate with one another — the very world we live in — is both intensely beautiful and utterly meaningless. Gone in the blink of an eye. Beyond our comprehension. Watching the small talk between family members and neighbors, seeing the evidence that Wilder so expertly lays before us was, this time, a profound experience for me. Because within the writing, there’s no judgment. Somehow, Wilder achieves the trick of standing outside of humanity and rendering us back to ourselves without comment (until the end, that is, and even then judgment is debatable). And isn’t that what love is…unconditional acceptance? The knowledge that to judge, criticize or try to change someone else is none of our business? So what he does is that he shows us how much he loves humanity (us), foibles and eccentricities and even ignorance and all, and he lets us love ourselves. And then, in Act Three, he pulls the rug out from under us. It’s almost a dirty trick, except that it’s done so well, with such tenderness, that rather than feeling duped, we’re in on it, we get it. The whole thing makes inevitable, terrible sense.

Cromer’s direction is pitch perfect. He’s found the exact right pace for the play. It flows effortlessly, evenly-calibrated throughout, with long, effective pauses at times, and overlapping choppy, hurried moments at others. He achieves balance. The performances he gets from the cast are uniformly right; no one stands out, no one steals the show, for the most part, it doesn’t even seem like anyone is even acting (not in a stylized, Richard Maxwell kind of way, just totally devoid of ego), which is just as it should be. Only in two brief instances of real onstage emotion (a scream from Emily, and a moment from Cromer, which I’ll get to in a moment) do we get jarring reminders that just beneath the surface of these pleasant, almost wry, proceedings, there is a current of raging darkness just barely being controlled. The choice to leave the house lights on throughout is another subtle, bold move that makes total sense. We all become part of the play. It feels great and also, at times, greatly uncomfortable.

As for Cromer’s performance as The Stage Manager, what makes his much-ballyhooed nonchalantness so effective is not that he is devoid of emotion. He’s not, and he only needs one moment of stark feeling in a two hour-plus performance to show us that’s not the case, when he slams a pair of boots down on a table to drive home a point. Cromer’s putting on a master class in control. He has a serious job to do and he takes it seriously. Cromer’s Stage Manager is like the kind doctor who matter-of-factly tells you that the condition you have is terminal. It’s not that he doesn’t care — he does, greatly. But he needs to protect himself and us as well. We need his professional calm to anchor us, and he needs to stay detached to keep his sanity. If he got emotional about every patient (audience, us) he’d lose his marbles, because the reality is just too overwhelming.

I’ve spent some time putting these thoughts together because I feel it is my civic duty to urge you to go and see this play. Consider it an investment in your future. Go see it. Tonight. As the play itself seems to say: before it’s too late.

The brand-spanking new CD “BETTER GET RIGHT” will be released to the world on August 20, 2010, but an advance, limited-pressing is available now EXCLUSIVELY to fans in the SHOP section of www.howardfishman.com!

Tour dates are shaping up for the fall. Stay tuned!

A year ago next week I wrote a blog post in which I put out there my intention to make some new recordings. I optimistically thought there might be one or two full collections of new material ready by the end of the year.

Well, I dropped off the first one at the plant today — 13 new masters and artwork for my next CD, entitled “BETTER GET RIGHT.” It’s a recording inspired by and, in some way, set in New Orleans and features the Biting Fish Brass Band.

There are more CDs to come. Two more are in their final stages of mixing — the first, “NO FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS” is my “Romania” song cycle. After that is “THE WORLD WILL BE DIFFERENT,” a collection featuring primarily guitar, bass and drums on a batch of new songs, many of which I’ve never played out.

I’m pretty excited about this stuff and I can’t wait for you to hear it. Thanks to all who have been so supportive and encouraging during this fevered year of recording activity. I think you’re gonna like the results…

The lovely Ms. McKay has invited me to join her on her shows this week in Cleveland at a great little jazz club called Nighttown. Apparently, we’re picking up a rhythm section from out there, so the shows (this Monday and Tuesday) should be nice and spontaneous!

Here’s a clip of Nellie singing my song “When It Rains” — enjoy!

Tomorrow night (Tuesday, November 17th) I’ll be doing a few songs live on the air as part of the WKCR 10th Anniversary Jamboree. Tune in to 89.9 FM in NYC if you’re around. I’ll be backed by the house band, including a few old and dear friends from way back when. Should be fun!

I’ve been asked to come and play guitar in Nellie McKay’s band for her upcoming dates at Yoshi’s in San Francisco (Oct. 16-18) and Jazz Alley in Seattle (Oct. 20-21). This will actually be my first time performing in San Francisco, and Seattle is one of my very favorite cities, so I’m really looking forward to this!

Here’s a clip of Nellie and me singing together at Joe’s Pub last year on the Hoagy Carmichael standard “Two Sleepy People”…enjoy!

Videographer extraordinaire Marie Le Claire has posted some new footage of the BITING FISH, from our show last month at (le) Poisson Rouge in NYC. Check it out!

The July 22nd concert at JOE’S PUB at the PUBLIC THEATER in NYC has become something of a concept evening entitled “YOUR VOICE,” featuring a number of friends covering my songs, backed by me and the band.

Here is a list of confirmed guests, and the songs they are scheduled to perform. In addition to these folks, there may yet be some unannounced surprises coming to sit in with the band. Hope to see you there!

“YOUR VOICE: THE SONGS OF HOWARD FISHMAN”
Wednesday, July 22 @7pm sharp.
JOE’S PUB @ The Public Theater in New York City.
Tickets and info here

Marika Hughes “Someday”
(from “LOOK AT ALL THIS!”)
Susan Oetgen “Anywhere at All”
(from “we are destroyed”)
Sasha Dobson “It Won’t Be Long II”
(from upcoming new release)
Roland Barber “Want you to Be Mine”
(from “DO WHAT I WANT”)
Bill Malchow “Katie La La”
(from “LOOK AT ALL THIS!”)
Skye Steele “In Another Life”
(from “DO WHAT I WANT”)
Sheriff Uncle Bob - “Luck”
(unreleased outtake from “LOOK AT ALL THIS!”)
Richard Julian “Dreams of You”
(from “I LIKE YOU A LOT)
Ian Riggs “Pictures”
(from “LOOK AT ALL THIS!”)
Mazz Swift “Good Times”
(from “THE HOWARD FISHMAN QUARTET)

Hope to see you there!

At the end of last night’s Jonathan Richman show at the Bowery Ballroom, a startling thing happened. After graciously giving two encores, JR put his guitar away, started for the exit, and then came back to the mic. He explained that something didn’t feel right to him…that the show had had a lot of ups and downs, but it hadn’t felt good to him, somehow. “We don’t play with any kind of plan,” he explained (speaking for himself and drummer Tommy Larkins, though clearly he’s the only one onstage calling the shots). “And tonight I was really feeling the lack of a plan. We try to keep things fresh…it’s like bread: as soon as you take it out of the oven, it starts to get old.” (I’m paraphrasing) “But I would rather fail like that than play the same stale thing every night.”

Anyone who’s ever gotten on a stage knows what it’s like to have a bad night…to not be connected to the music, or the audience, or oneself. It happens, and it doesn’t feel good. But witnessing Jonathan Richman’s palpable sense of confusion and unrest for not (in his mind) delivering the goods, to see him offer himself up like that in front of a packed house, was really something. One fan suggested he solve the problem by singing his song “Springtime in New York,” and yes, he said, that might very well be just the thing. He called Tommy back to the stage, unpacked his guitar, and performed the song with tenderness and real love for the audience and for the city, and all was well once again in the world.

This guy is amazing. I’ve had the pleasure to see him four times in the last three years, and each time have been completely floored by the intimacy he creates with the audience, by the spontaneity of his performance (the guitar flights of fancy, the lyric ad libs, the off-mic bits, the dancing!..he’s out of his mind, and G-d bless him for it), by his total engagement in offering service to the crowd in the form of light, humor, warmth, gentleness and wisdom.

Sure, I could tell he was a little off his game last night. He started strong, but seemed to become preoccupied with his decision to instruct the venue to keep the A/C off. As it got warmer in the room, he began to worry about the audience’s comfort, asking us if we were too warm, even as one of his songs railed against things like A/C and new housing developments and things that keep us from “the real” of life. He seemed to get confused, torn between following the dictates of his conscience and his concern for the audience, and the show took a noticeable energy dive from there on in. Or maybe it was the decidedly un-Jonathan Richman-like song he sang about being a victim to other people’s unkindness and cruelty (I don’t the name of it, but I’d put money on it being a cover of a Vic Chestnutt song, who opened the show).

Whatever the reason, JR lost his groove about halfway through, and struggled mightily to regain his balance. Seeing this guy, in his late 50’s, veteran of thousands of concerts, care so deeply about trying to find his way back into the moment, was a real gift. Hearing his conviction that he’d rather fail in his dedication to the moment than be another nail in the coffin of true, live performance and risk and humanity, confirms for me — once again — that Jonathan Richman is a modern-day hero.

Go see him if, and as often as, you can.

Tour dates are here.

People often ask me where I draw my musical inspiration from, and I often draw a blank. Reason being: most of the things that inspire me are not music. Theater, film, art, literature, history, religion, ideas..these are the things that generally get me going.

There are few things worse than being stuck in the audience at a bad piece of theater, but the converse is also true: when theater is really effective, no other art form can touch it for the visceral, exciting, startling feeling it inspires.

This week I had the opportunity to see “DESIRE UNDER THE ELMS”, as good and imaginative a production as I’ve seen on Broadway in a long time. Today I read that the show is closing early (May 24) because of bad box office receipts, mainly due to getting shut out of the Tonys (a travesty). Even if there are some casting issues, I still urge you to go see it before it’s gone forever.

In the musical realm (although there was a good deal of theater in this too), I had another opportunity to see Leonard Cohen perform last night in Waterbury, CT. I caught him for the first time last October in Obernberg, Germany, but Leonard and the show have only gotten better in the intervening months. He’s absolutely at the top of his game: totally present, giving and fully cognizant of his tremendous power at this late stage of his career/life. He’s in NYC this weekend, then has a few more dates in North America before heading back across the pond. Amazingly, there are still seats left at many of the shows. Really, if you can, do yourself a favor and go and see Leonard Cohen. You’ll never forget it.