There’s something about Feinstein’s/54 Below.
The lush red and gold curves, the way the lights ooze and burn purple and blue and green, the heavy shine of the baby grand and the twinkle of dark liquids in whisky glasses. Simultaneously fresh and young and immediate, yet classic and vintage and refined. I love it.
My show is coming up fast— April 6th. A cabaret featuring my original musical and my Broadway shows as well. I’ve held a few rehearsals with the cast but there’s lots of work still to be done. But… instead of scheduling rehearsals or distributing charts to the band, it’s March 28th and I’m heading to Brooklyn to work on new material. My producer and musician friend Justin Goldner and I met at 54 below during the Broadway Loves Sam Smith show in 2014. We produced my first solo music project together an EP called Hipster Pinup. I have new lyrics and an idea and we’re going to spend a few hours noodling on it. To be honest, I’m welcoming the escape from material I’ve done a bunch of times. The newness of a song when it’s raw is intoxicating and homegirl could use a little break.
The lyrics are written on my phone’s notes. I sing guitar riffs in between.
I’ll melt you down
i’ll take you in
i’ll hold u up
i’ll kiss your face
I’ll lick your wounds
I’ll volunteer
I’ll wrap the bandage round your finger where you bleed
and you’ll say thank you
and i’ll i’ll leave you
in the morn
i’m so sharp when i strut
they call me supercut
I’m so hot when i puff
now I’m venus in love
I’m so far into the galaxy
you better giddyup to keep up with me
now I’m blastin
I’ll melt you down
i’ll take you in
I’ll make you better than you’ve been
are you in or you plastic?
you’ll runway and roll the dice
i’ll getaway and i’ll be nice
we’ll do it right we’ll meet down
forget we ever rolled around
got better things to do, got better things to do
you give me attitude gimme bad attitude
unless you bring it to me like I know you could
recycle that ish like you know you should
come on come on come
come on come on come on
It’s a very new vibe for me, lyrically and sonically. Captured originally on my phone voice memos, where I start the vast majority of my songs, the demo is almost impossible to hear. I think I was on the Staten Island ferry when the idea came. You can hear background noise and the sounds of people.
Justin is terrific. Patient, listening and fast, he works on the music software program Ableton Live and sets up the tempo and a few drums. I do a few takes into the standing mic, headphones covering my head on either side and giving the distinct impression of Princess Liei buns.
When I close my eyes, I can almost hear it. We experiment. Cut and copy and re-do and re-do again. I feel the stress of producing begin to slip away. I’m a singer again. I remember to drop my jaw, a voice technique to relax my throat muscles when they tighten with breathy pop singing.
For a bit, my mind wanders as Justin works on the computer. I recall my finished material from the years prior. Each song, each experience of writing and birthing it, the finished product and it’s reception. How different they each are. Every time I’ve been at a mic like this seems to swirl in my head when I’m back in front of one again. Doesn’t matter if it’s Broadway cast album recording day or alone at my parents house with my USC mic. It’s special and sacred and scary and all mine.
And it’s really mine. My songs, my show, my vision. I love performing, but I feel anxiety and fear all the time. It’s been apart of me since I was a little girl. Particularly difficult is the cognitive dissonance of at all once desiring with my entire being to be center stage and telling the crux of the story versus the biological reality of adrenaline and cortisone and all the lovely stress hormones flooding my veins and making my stomach hurt all whilst I’m trying to work. I practice a lot to battle this. I practice breathing too. Just breathing, no judgement. It’s just as hard as it sounds.
Justin and I listen back to the outline we’ve created. I like it and he likes it. But we won’t be back to this demo for months probably. Aligning schedules is 98% of the gig. But I am filled with heart. We say goodbye and I head back to Manhattan.
Tonight I will practice with my roomie and co-star Emma Hunton. She will be singing two songs from my musical Chemical Drive. I’ll teach them to her quickly, Emma is a long time pro and the songs aren’t too complicated. I smile to myself. It’s still surreal to hear my songs from from other people’s mouths, especially voices like Emma’s. She is a rockstar and a powerhouse and perfect to portray one of my lead characters, the brilliant nuclear physicist Dr. Woods.
And my mom is coming! Holy cow. My mom is going to hear some of these songs for the first time…. With a band, in that luscious room, my mom will get to share in all of this with me. The west coast is just a little too far for me, and I don’t see my family near as much as I’d like to. But April 6th will feel like home, onstage with my friends, making music and stories centering the progressive path forward. And in Broadway’s living room?
I love it.
Write Teacher(s) Readers – catch the show April 6th if you’re in NYC! Tickets and additional information are are available