Hello Beautiful People,
Last night, after coming home from the concert reading of Bloodsong of Love at 54 Below, I sat down at my computer, ready to write.
And honestly? I couldn’t find the words just yet.
Cause when you see people you admire, people you love, people whom you call your friends and colleagues coming together to create…well, sometimes it makes the words a little hard to find. Because really, you start to feel all the feelings. And words don’t seem to do the experience any sort of justice.
But alas, it’s been almost 24 hours.
And so I’m going to do my best to try.
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It’s been almost three years since I’ve met Joe Iconis. And Jennifer Ashley Tepper. And Eric William Morris. And Jason ‘Sweettooth’ Williams. And Lance Rubin. And Mike Rosengarten. And Dennis Michael Keefe. And, well, the whole family.
Almost three years ago I sat down with Jennifer Ashley Tepper in the Renaissance Diner on 9th avenue, talking about, well, theatre. Passions. Projects. Life.
Almost three years ago when I parked myself at a corner table at Annie’s Bread…and got to know Mr. Joe Iconis.
We spoke about a myriad of things. Long Island. Broadway. New York. Smash. We briefly touched upon Bloodsong of Love – it was really through my conversations with Jennifer, and Lance, and Jason, and Eric that I fully began to understand what this show means to so many people.
Here’s a bit of background for you – premiering in 2010 at ArsNova, and then again in 2011 at NAMT, Bloodsong of Love is described as a wild musical theater interpretation the Spaghetti Western film genre. It follows the story of a wandering guitarist, known only as The Musician, on a journey to reclaim his bride from the evil clutches of Lo Cocodrilo. Raucous, heartfelt, and hilarious, Bloodsong is a raging battle cry for those who believe in art and love and sticking together.
Now, when I heard that the creative team behind this show was pulling it off of the shelf, and bringing it to 54 Below, there was no doubt in my mind that I would be in attendance. And I was there. At the 9;30 pm show. In a packed house, with so many friends, colleagues, and industry folk who I so very much admire.
And it’s at this point in this little piece where I struggle to find the right words, because truthfully, I’m not sure how to say what it is that I saw. That I felt. That I experienced.
I went into the performance knowing fully that this was a show that was emotionally tied to some of the brightest people I know in show business, and I left, understanding why.
I think the best way to describe the magic and love that is wrapped up in the musical theatre gift that is Bloodsong is best represented by the words of Joe himself, (for the record these are three different quotes that occur at different moments in the play.)
Money ain’t what living is about.
I’m an artist in my soul.
I don’t know where I’d be, if you weren’t here with me.
Is it a spaghetti western? Yes. Silly and comical at times? Sure – but the music is outstanding. The comedic banter will make you laugh so hard you’ll cry. And then, well, then there are the big messages. The home runs. The shiny red bow that ties it all together – artistry is a calling, something you feel in your heart, (or as the song puts it, in your soul). And while the love and dedication that you have to your art, (whatever art form you practice), is part of the strands that make you whole, the people who are there with you on your journey, your lovers and friends and family, those people are as equally important. Perhaps they are the ones who inspire your art, perhaps they are the ones who celebrate with you, who cheer you on. Maybe they are the ones who catch you when you fall, perhaps they even create with you – regardless of their role, there are a select group of people in everyone’s lives who make life worth living. They’re the ones who make the milestones worth celebrating, the failures less heart wrenching, and the journey that much more enjoyable.
They are the ones who you would be lost without.
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One day, when I’m fully grey and I have children and grandchildren and I’m sitting in Sardi’s with Jen and Joe…one day there will be a young writer, who comes up to us. And he or she will be itching to tell the stories of the new musical theater writers, of the years of 54 Below. And I’ll smile, and order a round of whiskey. Cause if we’re walking down memory lane, well, let the whiskey flow, eh? And I’ll sit, and smile, as this young writer dives right in with his or her questions, wanting to know what it was like to see the seeds of genius take root, about the time of the Bloodsong. And Jen and Joe will tell this young writer about a show that was rooted in their soul. A show that reminded them that money isn’t what living was about. A show that will remind them of the beauty of friendship, of love, and art. And they’ll urge that young writer to cling tight to those who lift him or her up, who challenge them to be the best version of his or herself.
The young writer will probably call the book the Untold Stories of New Broadway – Volume 1.
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Live, Love, Learn,