You know how it feels when you lose somebody you cared about deeply, someone you thought was the one?
Yea, well, Billy Christopher Maupin knows that feeling, too, only he's got a far better singing voice than you do and he's a whiz at mining soundtracks for musical gems to tell the highs and lows of trying to navigate the world once you've been smitten.
So quit yer whining.
The Camel was the setting for his cabaret, "This Fish Needs a Bicycle," an evening of history ("I was a virgin until I was 19"), self-reflection (resolving to be okay with being single) and observation ("I'm always hitting on straight guys"), accompanied by Tristan on guitar and Joshua on keyboards, punctuated by show tunes and obscure character-driven songs.
Occasionally a random dancer appeared to great effect, like when long-legged Emily began shimmying to "Sister Kate" right up the aisles between the tables to the stage.
As long as they were songs about missin' a feller, lovin' a man or muddlin' through heartache, he was all over it while nattily clad in a red blazer, black shirt and cuffed pants.
Barefoot, naturally.
From Oklahoma's "I Can't Say No" to a torch song such as "The Man I Love" to "Down With Love," with a Cher imitation (not just voice, but hair flipping as well) smack dab in the middle of a killer medley, it was pretty easy to see where this boy had channeled his feelings after his last big romance had ended.
Acknowledging his constant companion, stage fright, he promised to do one more song before the break, during which we were instructed to get a drink, order some dessert and avail ourselves of the bathroom, which he also planned to do.
Just as he was about to hop off the stage, he realized his error, sheepishly saying, "Oh, yea, the song."
Of course he'd told us about the romance that had spawned the evening earlier, because that's what lovesick people do after they call the whole thing off.
But their heart will go on, and in this case that meant the trio returned after a break (BC in a different blazer) only to start, stop and restart a song before realizing that their juju was off. "Okay, I'm just gonna go out and come in again," he said and once he did, all was well in the world of sung emotions.
BC brought up acoustic guitarist Psalm Swarr because at his request, she'd written a song about his breakup, telling him if he didn't want it, she'd sing it herself. Between Tristan's slide guitar and his harmonizing with Psalm and Emily, the heartbreaking song was rendered achingly.
There were songs about why people fall in love (can you say hormones? how about convenience?), future chances and endless optimism.
Things got a little emotional when he talked about getting really good at "hiding from life," but he also shared his attack plan: (F*ck that!" with enthusiasm), simultaneously citing Auntie Mame's advice abut life being a banquet while letting drop that Mame was one of his dream roles.
It never hurts to let people know what you want, said every kvetching mother ever.
When he came back for an encore, he asked the sell-out crowd, "One more?" and someone yelled out, "Ten more!" just before someone else laughing instructed, "Calm down there!"
Reaching in for a prime nugget with which to close the well-sung show, he pulled out Rodgers and Hammerstein's "Something Good" from "Sound of Music" and performed it like his life depended upon it.
Or at least his heart. The good news, he'd already sung, is that love is going around, heck, it's practically in the air.
Best to keep your resistance low.
Showing posts with label tristan dougherty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tristan dougherty. Show all posts
Monday, August 22, 2016
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Love is a Grand and a Beautiful Thing
So there goes the title of my autobiography.
"Still Mad About the Boys" had been appropriated by Billy Christopher Maupin for an evening of cabaret.
The fun was to be at Richmond Triangle Players, so I invited my favorite theater-lover to join me.
Knowing that songs, stories and a bar were in our future, we stopped at Lunch for a nosh first.
Within fifteen minutes, the restaurant was full of people I recognized from going to the theater.
A one-block proximity is hard to resist.
Inquiring of our soon-to-be harried server what Rose they had, she checked and responded, "The Seeker," a Rose Prudence and I had discovered on the Rose crawl two weeks ago.
"The Seeker?" we gasped in unison. Yes, please.
Dinner was a shared bowl of brown sugar bacon chili and corn griddle cakes with pulled pork and cole slaw.
I don't know that I've ever eaten lightly at Lunch, but then that's the pleasure of it.
Leaving the Cure blaring and the other theater-goers finishing up, we headed over to Richmond Triangle Players.
There we found a room full of actors, directors, dancers and a few people like us, mere theater-goers with no actual talent beyond fandom.
Our seats were separated by a table, just the place for a bottle of Sciarpa Pinot Grigio.
We saw a guy in the shiniest of jackets and asked if we could touch him (he said yes), only to find it was a brushed fabric, almost velvet-like, but shiny silver with thin black stripes.
He even took it off for us, looking for a fabric tag (there was none) and sharing the story of how he'd arrived in Rome but his baggage hadn't, so he'd headed down the Spanish Steps and found a shop open.
There he'd bought this beautiful Versace blazer ("Back when Versace was alive," he clarified, so pre-1997) which we were now stroking.
Ah, the pleasures of a theater crowd.
The reason for the evening, Billy Christopher, I'd seen act, direct and sing at the Ghost Light afterparty.
Tonight he walked onstage in a black shirt, jeans and barefoot and proceeded to sing a well-chosen program interspersed with the moving story of his coming out and love life.
It was nothing short of extraordinary.
"It's just you and us," he said gesturing at his two musicians. "For the next hour and a half. I think I just peed in my pants."
That was the beginning of the self-deprecating humor that pervaded the evening.
He said he'd last done a solo cabaret in 2008. "I've become much more terrified as a performer since then," he admitted before breaking into song.
After introducing his pianist Joshua and his guitarist Tristan, he spoke about his upbringing and college years in his hometown of Campbellsville, Kentucky.
It is apparently a school where homosexual acts were punishable by expulsion when he went there and are now punishable by mere suspension. A hard place for a gay kid to go to school, in other words.
Luckily there was a mall an hour away and on his first visit to Hot Topic, he locked eyes with a blue-eyed boy who became his first boyfriend. The rest was personal history, as we heard tonight.
He spoke about his farmer father, a simple man very different than himself, and one he clearly adores, saying, "Dad is possibly the boy I'm most mad about."
BC did a beautiful version "I'm Beginning to See the Light" before talking about his "forever fiancee" Jackie Jones and how their relationship had developed.
His best tribute to her was singing her standard audition song, an hysterical one about Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's seafaring, salty dog of a husband.
Getting everyone going with "Bring On the Men" from "Jekyll and Hyde," he couldn't resist playing the ham, running his hands through Tristan's thick hair or stroking Joshua's back as he sang.
So let's bring on the men
And let the fun begin
Another touch of sin
Why wait another minute?
There was nowhere to go from there but to intermission.
Starting the second act, he put on the sandals of a woman in the front row (marveling that they fit) and sang "Mad About the Boy."
That was followed by a monologue that began with, "I really hate camping."
I feel your pain, BC.
This was an introduction to a story about camping with a former boyfriend in Crabtree Falls, where he was promised a hike, a waterfall and an air mattress.
After explaining how the air mattress deflated and he ended up on vinyl over twigs (his worst fear), he sang the perfect song, "Good Thing He Can't Read My Mind," a feeling anyone in a relationship has probably experienced.
The song about suffering along to the opera ("I don't understand a word, even when it's in English"), skiing ("There's no exhilaration, I'm only feeling terrified") and sushi ("I'm poking with a chopstick at a living, breathing fish stick") was laugh-out-loud funny and we did.
From those hi-jinks, he moved on to telling us about the only man he'd ever called "partner" and how once they acknowledged their feelings, "I never slept in my bed again."
As we all have learned, even the best relationships sometimes end, but his acceptance and memory of the relationship was touching, to say the least.
"That was perfect and I'll never have that again and that's okay," he said and sang "Once Upon a Time."
Just as we were all ready to cry, he lifted us back up again, saying, "Every act has a great medley. I made that up because we have a medley."
And not just any medley, but a reconstruction of a reconstruction of a medley from his first solo cabaret.
Even better, it was a Richard Rodgers medley.
By this time, I thought I was going to explode out of my seat, except the woman next to me was even more crazed than I was about it, whistling and yelling.
BC kicked off with "Wonderful Guy" from "South Pacific," went on to "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" from "Pal Joey," and then did "I Wish I Were in Love Again" and "My Funny Valentine," both from "Babes in Arms."
The crowd was hooting and hollering with delight at his renditions.
"Tonight's been about love for me," he said to wind up the show. "I challenge you each to love someone or everyone. Why not?"
His last song was "The Rose," achingly sung and the perfect finale to an evening of soul-baring and classic song-singing.
To take it over the top, certain appointed people in the audience rose one by one and joined him, singing harmony or background and giving the rest of us chills.
One guy even lit his lighter in tribute.
After a standing ovation for both him, Joshua and Tristan, who had added immeasurably to every song, BC bounded back to inquire if we wanted an encore.
Why, yes, we did as a matter of fact.
Could there be a better way to end a cabaret than with a song from "Cabaret"?
"Maybe This Time," with its hopeful and poignant lyrics sung with every ounce of his heart and soul brought the house down.
Maybe this time I'll be lucky
Maybe this time, he'll stay
Maybe this time for the first time
Love won't hurry away
There's nothing like hearing someone sing it like they mean it.
I do hope Billy Christopher is lucky.
I know very single one of us in the audience felt that way by the time he finished with us.
"Still Mad About the Boys" had been appropriated by Billy Christopher Maupin for an evening of cabaret.
The fun was to be at Richmond Triangle Players, so I invited my favorite theater-lover to join me.
Knowing that songs, stories and a bar were in our future, we stopped at Lunch for a nosh first.
Within fifteen minutes, the restaurant was full of people I recognized from going to the theater.
A one-block proximity is hard to resist.
Inquiring of our soon-to-be harried server what Rose they had, she checked and responded, "The Seeker," a Rose Prudence and I had discovered on the Rose crawl two weeks ago.
"The Seeker?" we gasped in unison. Yes, please.
Dinner was a shared bowl of brown sugar bacon chili and corn griddle cakes with pulled pork and cole slaw.
I don't know that I've ever eaten lightly at Lunch, but then that's the pleasure of it.
Leaving the Cure blaring and the other theater-goers finishing up, we headed over to Richmond Triangle Players.
There we found a room full of actors, directors, dancers and a few people like us, mere theater-goers with no actual talent beyond fandom.
Our seats were separated by a table, just the place for a bottle of Sciarpa Pinot Grigio.
We saw a guy in the shiniest of jackets and asked if we could touch him (he said yes), only to find it was a brushed fabric, almost velvet-like, but shiny silver with thin black stripes.
He even took it off for us, looking for a fabric tag (there was none) and sharing the story of how he'd arrived in Rome but his baggage hadn't, so he'd headed down the Spanish Steps and found a shop open.
There he'd bought this beautiful Versace blazer ("Back when Versace was alive," he clarified, so pre-1997) which we were now stroking.
Ah, the pleasures of a theater crowd.
The reason for the evening, Billy Christopher, I'd seen act, direct and sing at the Ghost Light afterparty.
Tonight he walked onstage in a black shirt, jeans and barefoot and proceeded to sing a well-chosen program interspersed with the moving story of his coming out and love life.
It was nothing short of extraordinary.
"It's just you and us," he said gesturing at his two musicians. "For the next hour and a half. I think I just peed in my pants."
That was the beginning of the self-deprecating humor that pervaded the evening.
He said he'd last done a solo cabaret in 2008. "I've become much more terrified as a performer since then," he admitted before breaking into song.
After introducing his pianist Joshua and his guitarist Tristan, he spoke about his upbringing and college years in his hometown of Campbellsville, Kentucky.
It is apparently a school where homosexual acts were punishable by expulsion when he went there and are now punishable by mere suspension. A hard place for a gay kid to go to school, in other words.
Luckily there was a mall an hour away and on his first visit to Hot Topic, he locked eyes with a blue-eyed boy who became his first boyfriend. The rest was personal history, as we heard tonight.
He spoke about his farmer father, a simple man very different than himself, and one he clearly adores, saying, "Dad is possibly the boy I'm most mad about."
BC did a beautiful version "I'm Beginning to See the Light" before talking about his "forever fiancee" Jackie Jones and how their relationship had developed.
His best tribute to her was singing her standard audition song, an hysterical one about Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's seafaring, salty dog of a husband.
Getting everyone going with "Bring On the Men" from "Jekyll and Hyde," he couldn't resist playing the ham, running his hands through Tristan's thick hair or stroking Joshua's back as he sang.
So let's bring on the men
And let the fun begin
Another touch of sin
Why wait another minute?
There was nowhere to go from there but to intermission.
Starting the second act, he put on the sandals of a woman in the front row (marveling that they fit) and sang "Mad About the Boy."
That was followed by a monologue that began with, "I really hate camping."
I feel your pain, BC.
This was an introduction to a story about camping with a former boyfriend in Crabtree Falls, where he was promised a hike, a waterfall and an air mattress.
After explaining how the air mattress deflated and he ended up on vinyl over twigs (his worst fear), he sang the perfect song, "Good Thing He Can't Read My Mind," a feeling anyone in a relationship has probably experienced.
The song about suffering along to the opera ("I don't understand a word, even when it's in English"), skiing ("There's no exhilaration, I'm only feeling terrified") and sushi ("I'm poking with a chopstick at a living, breathing fish stick") was laugh-out-loud funny and we did.
From those hi-jinks, he moved on to telling us about the only man he'd ever called "partner" and how once they acknowledged their feelings, "I never slept in my bed again."
As we all have learned, even the best relationships sometimes end, but his acceptance and memory of the relationship was touching, to say the least.
"That was perfect and I'll never have that again and that's okay," he said and sang "Once Upon a Time."
Just as we were all ready to cry, he lifted us back up again, saying, "Every act has a great medley. I made that up because we have a medley."
And not just any medley, but a reconstruction of a reconstruction of a medley from his first solo cabaret.
Even better, it was a Richard Rodgers medley.
By this time, I thought I was going to explode out of my seat, except the woman next to me was even more crazed than I was about it, whistling and yelling.
BC kicked off with "Wonderful Guy" from "South Pacific," went on to "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" from "Pal Joey," and then did "I Wish I Were in Love Again" and "My Funny Valentine," both from "Babes in Arms."
The crowd was hooting and hollering with delight at his renditions.
"Tonight's been about love for me," he said to wind up the show. "I challenge you each to love someone or everyone. Why not?"
His last song was "The Rose," achingly sung and the perfect finale to an evening of soul-baring and classic song-singing.
To take it over the top, certain appointed people in the audience rose one by one and joined him, singing harmony or background and giving the rest of us chills.
One guy even lit his lighter in tribute.
After a standing ovation for both him, Joshua and Tristan, who had added immeasurably to every song, BC bounded back to inquire if we wanted an encore.
Why, yes, we did as a matter of fact.
Could there be a better way to end a cabaret than with a song from "Cabaret"?
"Maybe This Time," with its hopeful and poignant lyrics sung with every ounce of his heart and soul brought the house down.
Maybe this time I'll be lucky
Maybe this time, he'll stay
Maybe this time for the first time
Love won't hurry away
There's nothing like hearing someone sing it like they mean it.
I do hope Billy Christopher is lucky.
I know very single one of us in the audience felt that way by the time he finished with us.
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