Yikes. Just look at this place. I’ve let it all go to seed. Again.
I’ve been writing. I’m writing all the time. I’m just not so good sometimes about keeping my scrapbook in order. And so:
Here’s my Washington Post review of Mavis Staples’s concert at George Washington University Lisner Auditorium two weeks ago and my review of the Gorillaz show at the Patriot Center two nights later, both with some heartening reader comments that speak perfectly to my frustration about being given an arbitary ceiling of 300 words for most of these reviews. Anyway, a week after Gorillaz, I saw Nick Lowe at the Birchmere and took a ridiculous amount of time to collect my thoughts about it. What I ultimately decided is that Nick Lowe is a guy who takes his sweet time doing stuff.
For the theater crowd, here’s my Washington City Paper review of Constellation’s Burtoned-down Women Beware Women. And my debut piece for TBD, a report on last weekend’s Helen Hayes Star Gala. I was delighted my recognition of host Tyne Daly for surviving her 1976 tour of duty with maverick San Francisco Police Inspector “Dirty” Harry Callahan made the cut.
And now for something completely different: Happy birthday today to my beloved friends Christina Sharkey and Rebecca Haithcoat. Many happy returns, Ladies.
Mission Improbable: Ryan Welsh and Medleine Carr get close
Gentle reader, if you’re anything like me, you’ve often lamented the manifold ways in which the theater consistently fails to evoke the experience of watching a great, droll black-and-white thriller, like The Third Man, let us say, or else an episode of the most delightful TV spy show in the history of televised espionage, The Avengers. Happily, the operatives responsible for Improbable Frequency— a surefooted, fast-talking WWII trenchcoat-and-dagger musical comedy from the reliable Irish-import company Solas Nua — have given bold remedy to this problem. The five-year-old outfit, best known for gritty (if heightened) naturalism, has now made a limber, sexy, generally spectacular first entry into the song-and-dance game, and while the result could only benefit from a two-to-four-song song shearing, the delight it brings to those tuned into its bizarro, ah, wavelength is irreducible.
And who is that? Well, the pun-averse are advised to stay well away. And the fun-averse, obviously! Also, anyone whose ears are easily fatigued by uncommonly dextrous feats of verbal derring-do. Everybody else? Game on, for Queen and Country. Continue reading