Lights dim and anticipation builds as I shift excitedly in the plush, velvet seat in enormous Carpenter Hall. God, I hope this is good. A silent prayer for something transformative. For "art," whatever that means. To escape.
A collective sharp inhale as the maestro raises both arms above his head, glistening baton in right, energy in his left. With one forceful whip of the baton, a resplendent cacophany of not just sound, but true music envelops the space. Bernstein's glorious, agitated West Side Story overture has begun, and I've just fallen head over heels in love. As I age and the nagging necessity of responsiblity becomes unaviodable, so do more mundane activities and choices. I am guilty of the common plight of "not living in the moment." It is unfortunately rare to find myself wishing I were nowhere else. Music is my express-lane ticket to ethereal bliss and that night in Carpenter Hall, you could not have paid me or wooed me away from the magic. Were there wonderful performances? Probably. Was there beautiful dancing? Certainly. But oh! that beautiful orchestra. 38 glorious pieces remastering one of the most perfect scores as it was first performed: a luxury that has vanished even from the most commercial, tourist-friendly theatres--those currently on Broadway.
And lo and behold, this wonderful gem of a theater exists in Irving, Texas, of all places. Now, it is probably by some terrible mistake, but my blogger stats tell me I have readers from all over the country as well as some international readers. If you, dear readers, find yourself in Texas or in need of a musical catharsis and/or pilgrimage, do yourself a favor and trek out to Irving for some musical theater magic.
The night I saw West Side Story, I had just decided to attempt pursuing theatre--even though I really had no background in it (outside of fanatic nerddom and quasi-closeted obsession.) About twenty seconds into the overture, I made it my ultimate aim to work at Lyric Stage. It is the marriage of what I love most in theatre: the old school, smartly written, narrative orchestrations that are essentially nonexistent now, an orchestra to parlay that narrative to the audience, a production team invested in the integrity of the work, and even sometimes a collaboration with the composer/original collaborators of the work.
West Side Story was three years ago, so my love affair isn't new by any means, but I find rather than my honeymoon phase waning and fizzling out, I continue discovering further reasons to fall in love with Lyric Stage. In the past couple years, I've had the extreme privelege of performing in six shows at Lyric as well as teaching a couple of classes and choreograhing the kids summer production. (If you have kiddos interested in the arts, consider taking them to the classes throughout the year and definitely get them involved in the summer production--they use the same costumes and set as the professional production and it is a wonderful experience!)
After a couple months away from Dallas and beloved Lyric (as a result of a job I have through a connection I made at Lyric, incidentally), I have to confess I am a little homesick for that orchestra. (And as a result I felt compelled unsolicited and entirely voluntarily to blog about it out of town on my day off. That's gotta be true love, right?) They just did a production of Charles Strouse's Rags, which I heard (and I have no doubt it's true) was glorious. I'm still very much enjoying my current adventure performing 8-10 shows a week in Pennsylvania, but the more I see and experience away from Lyric the more I realize how rare and amazing it is. This morning in New York City (it's my day off!) I had the chance to grab coffee with a wonderful co-worker from Gypsy at Lyric who has worked literally everywhere--Broadway and beyond--and we collectively marvelled over what a luxury an orchestra and a theatre like Lyric Stage is. We are terribly spoiled, Texas. Apparently the love spell isn't exclusively for young enthusiastic novices like me.
All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it. Jean Cocteau said it, but Lyric Stage exemplifies it. And we get to reap the benefits of some incredible work as a result.
How lucky are we?
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