|
|
| |
| |
|
1/27/06 |
|
IT'S ONLY LIFE; SONGS BY JOHN BUCCHINO |
|
Brooks Ashmanskas, Andrea Burns, Gavin
Creel, Jessica Molaskey and Billy Porter |
|
The Allen Room,
Lincoln Center, NYC |
|
www.johnbucchino.com |
|
  |
|
|
|
|
| |
 |
|
| |
If your vision of Manhattan nightlife has been shaped by
black-and-white photographs of swanky clubs shimmering in
candlelight, women in gloves, men in black tie, then you might be
forgiven for thinking you arrived after the party ended. Ah, but not
if you are fortunate enough to find yourself seated in the Allen
Room on a chilly January night, listening to the music of John
Bucchino sung by a toothsome quintet of talented Broadway
performers. The lights of Central Park South dancing up and down the
eastward-facing glass wall, apartments and their inhabitants
visible, and then not, as lamps flicker on and off, and you’re warm
and cozy in leather seats, candlelight flickering at the tables, and
Bucchino himself at the Steinway, and suddenly, it hits you: this is
the New York you moved here for – and you are home.
And it’s all the better for having Gavin Creel, his arms
outstretched, singing in front of you. You’ve followed his career
since he first arrived in town, fresh-faced from Michigan, and now,
here he is, a Broadway ingenue singing Bucchino’s articulate and
heartfelt songs. It’s a lovely match: Creel’s earnestly romantic
persona conveying the inherent yearning in Bucchino’s lyrics.
Bucchino writes songs which capture perfectly the life well-lived –
that is to say, the considered life – amidst the awe-inspiring
grandeur of Manhattan’s towers and endless possibilities. The
parties, the connections, the meetings with the rich and powerful,
the mornings-after, the misgivings – the full gamut of Manhattan’s
emotional terrain is registered in Bucchino’s anecdotal songs. Just
as it’s possible to read an entire life in a painting by Vermeer, so
does Bucchino enable you to see the life, the relationship, the
reasons why and why not, and the lessons learned, all
perfectly-shaped in a four-minute song. With titles such as
“Painting My Kitchen,” “When You’re Here,” “I’m Not Waiting,” and
“I’ve Learned to Let Things Go,” the characters in Bucchino’s songs
are smart enough to carry on, even when confronting life’s
existential crises. And in hearing these songs, you can’t help but
be reminded of Stephen Sondheim’s work, particularly “Company,” with
its tales of young sophisticates in search of connection in the big
city.
Then, late into the program, Brooks Ashmanskas takes hold of “If I
Ever Say I’m Over You,” a song so hauntingly beautiful in its
rendering of loss as to make such a state almost desirable, and with
sublime control, offers it up to the one no longer there. This is
the ineffable sadness of life made palpable. How any of us go on is
a wonder, when we know what awaits us – and yet, it is exactly that
acuteness of feeling which makes life bearable. To feel, and to feel
so intensely, and to love, and to love well, and to let go when need
be – these are the emotions with which Bucchino’s characters
wrestle. And as shown in songs such as “Grateful” and “This Moment,”
Bucchino makes it clear that in the face of life’s confusions and
disappointments, the wise are those who recognize this life’s many
blessings.
And to find yourself sitting in the Allen Room, surrounded by such
beauty and serenaded by such talent, such evocative and sensitive
performances, the kind that linger long into the night and well into
sleep, becoming the stuff of dreams, is to realize all at once,
you’re living it, the glamour and the romance, no longer just a
fantasy, and this is your true Manhattan life. |
|
| |
|
|
|
