Why this blog? Why now?

I was raised in a very religious, Christian home; in this context, there are often frequent conversations between teenagers and their parents about what kind of music is acceptable. What is a “Christian” song? Is a song a “Christian” song if it was recorded by a Christian artist under a Christian label, but didn’t mention God or Jesus?

As a young teenager (who very secretly listened to a contraband recording of Jesus Christ Superstar) I felt it was absurd to think that music could be “Christian.” Can a song respond to an altar call and pray the sinner’s prayer, asking the Lord Jesus into its heart? No, it cannot!

(Later on, I would revise my thinking on what makes someone a Christian, but that is not what this anthology is about.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?list=PL1YHVLEyt_EX841HQbxsF7ezEPASeVFO_&v=nK-mjsrfS8Y

My forbidden Jesus Christ Superstar was the movie soundtrack as the best highlights recording of our time had yet to be released.

In spite of my defiance of the strict categorization I saw around me, it was obvious that there were songs that fit into my adolescent, evangelical worldview neatly and cleanly, like putting the last piece of the puzzle in its clearly defined negative space, and songs that did not.

I feel similarly about “leftist musicals.” If there is a litmus test for leftist musicals, I haven’t found one. I don’t think this anthology will provide one, either. But as an increasingly politicized person, I can experience theatre and respond to revolutionary values or reactionary choices, and I can embrace “We’d Like to Thank You, Herbert Hoover,” as a radicalizing anthem.

Musical theatre has been a significant player in social change over the last century, but we have not yet arrived. Even material that was considered progressive in times past may not be a vehicle that can help us find an equitable way forward - a concept that I credit to Marie Kondo. When she counsels her clients on what to throw away, she has them envision their future and ask, “Do I want to take this object with me into my future?” Sometimes the answer is no, and you can appreciate the item for having been with you at a certain point and recognize that it’s no longer useful.

For instance, Rodgers & Hammerstein gave us so many models of interracial friendships and romances in their oeuvre, as well as beautiful and dynamic songs that help us talk about racism and prejudice. Yet The King and I betrays the assumptions and areas of ignorance that come from producing a musical about Thai history, almost unilaterally without Thai people throughout the creation and subsequent stagings. (I’ve seen more Vietnamese names associated with productions of Miss Saigon than I have seen Thai names associated with The King and I, and that should tell you something. These things do not spark joy!)

I’m not saying destroy The King and I …but maybe it’s time to de-proscenium The King and I.

This anthology is about posing similar questions. I’d like to promote a good-natured, light-hearted critique of the mellifluously influential messages we receive through musical theatre. My hope in engaging in these conversations is to encourage my fellow comrades to think about what beliefs our most beloved musicals affirm. Ultimately, I want us to challenge each other to create theatre that is truly revolutionary: by making bold, even subversive directing choices with existing musicals or by producing, writing, or staging new material.

This anthology is also about love. I love musicals. I love thinking about them and talking about them and working on them. And I always will.

It’s been hard to find the joy in loving musicals during my longest stretch ever without watching them in person since I discovered them (a four-year-old cherub who was perhaps too young to be watching The Music Man and was freaked out by the opening number.)

I did not intend on bringing the “p-word” into this, but here we are, in the middle of a global pandemic that has already killed millions of people. It has also closed theatres and ended collaborations and curtailed careers.

The death toll is already hard to fathom; I can’t tell if my profound grief over the artistic losses we have also suffered is a proxy for the unspeakable human tragedy or a distraction from it, but in either case, I wanted to reawaken my love for musicas, because art helps us process loss and find a way forward... a la Sunday in the Park with George.

I want to bring musical theatre with me into my future, as uncertain as that future may be, and I want to do it with comrades, a chorus line of us.