Harried Potter

There were lots of nice storylines that came out the April 4 concert at the Greenhoe Theater at Landmark College.

Local boy Sam Amidon returned home to play an opening set that showcased the brilliantly offbeat way he puts new spin on old traditional songs. His latest album, "All is Well" was my favorite release of 2008 - so original, so unlike anything you've ever heard before. He's got a new CD in the works, and I can't wait.

Another local boy, Corey DiMario, plays bass in Crooked Still, and they were there, too. They sounded great, particularly in the second set when Aiofe O'Donovan's vocals were miked right. Long a favorite of mine - Crooked Still has a unique sound, pairing O'Donovan's breathy, high vocals with the low earthiness of stand-up bass and cello. Then they throw banjo and violin into the mix.

But by far the best storyline was how big the crowd was. This was the first concert Twilight Music promoter Barry Stockwell brought to the Greenhoe Theater - the inaugural of what he hopes to be a monthly concert series - and the crowd was a good one. Greenhoe's 384 seats were nearly all taken. That's a happy thing both for music fans and for Barry, who is one of the real good guys in the local arts scene. Watch for the next concert in early May. It's going to be a good one.

On a related note, the concert featured two of the oddest banjo-related bits of trivia I've ever seen. First, during one song, Amidon stopped a clawhammer banjo solo in mid-pluck, got up, went over to another part of the stage and did some push-ups. It was a funny, surreal moment, and I couldn't help thinking I was witnessing the birth of some kind of new hillbilly biathlon. They were good push-ups, by the way.

Crooked Still's banjo player Gregory Liszt is really Dr. Gregory Liszt - he has a doctorate from MIT, I believe, in something I'm quite sure I don't understand. I get a kick out of that, plus his playing is great and he exudes a goofy kind of charm on stage.

All in all, a good evening, and the portent of good things to come.

Ray Massucco, the only lawyer/roots music promoter I know, pressed a CD into my hand last June and said he had already worn out his copy of it.

The CD in question was Mary Gauthier's "Between Daylight and Dark," and I put it on later that night. It took about two songs for me to figure out that this CD was going to be in heavy rotation from then on.

This is an absolute gem of an album, disarmingly honest, poetic and earthy, marvelously conceived and produced without seeming, not even for an instant, slick and packaged.

Gauthier, whose own life has taught her many hard lessons, has a genius for songs which break open everyday existence to reveal the plain, essential truths within.

If you don't believe me, catch her when she comes to Bellows Falls this Sunday, April 19, to perform at Boccelli's on the Canal. Massucco, who has brought Gauthier to the Roots on the River Festival/Fred Eaglesmith Weekend on more than one occasion, is the one bringing her back again, for what will no doubt be a show of rare power and grace. Music starts at 7:30 p.m. Don't miss it.

Tickets are $20 in advance, $25 at the door. To order tickets, visit brattleborotix.com. For more information and a nice profile of Gauthier, check out Dave Madeloni's interview with her, which will appear in the April 16 Ovation of the Brattleboro Reformer or visit www.reformer.com.

If you can't make it, do yourself a favor and check out "Between Daylight and Dark." Ray Massucco sure was right about her.

For a number of reasons, I did something a couple of months ago I hadn't done in nearly 20 years - try out for a play.

I had been a serious theater nerd (mostly musical theater) growing up and all through college. Then, well, life intervened. But largely because director Bob DuCharme is a friend I always wanted to spend more time with, I tried out for "Our Town." And lo and behold, I was cast in the role of Dr. Gibbs.

I knew I would have a good time, but it's been better than I anticipated. I knew the play, and I confess, I didn't love it. I thought it was OK, you know, touching at times, but the productions I'd seen lacked a certain something, life, I guess, you could say. I'd seen it performed with such modern minimalism and such New England dryness, that it seemed a surreal, sterile experience, as if Bergmann had gotten his hands on "It's a Wonderful Life."

Our production, well it may not win any Tony Awards, but it will have life. DuCharme has guided me into the play in a new way, and it is revealing itself to be a marvelously rich piece. There is ample humor in many forms (wry smiles and robust laughs) and plenty of poignancy, too. I now see whay it was hailed as a masterpiece and why it endures today (it is currently running on Broadway, too).

"Our Town" ends up having much to say about life today and how to live it. It serves up a chilling reminder to appreciate the things we all say we value in life (family, friends, community), while teaching us to feel wonder at those everyday, mundane things that we don't even notice. At a time when there is much to feel grim anxiety about, it's a valuable lesson in how to mine the rich veins of joy that are right there in front of all of us.

That's exactly why I decided to take the plunge and do "Our Town" in the first place. Life sure has its stresses these days - ominous things seem to be always on the horizon - and the way I chose to combat that was simply to do more with my life; to take a chance on something; to commit a random act of creativity; to join with other people doing the same thing and to work with them to succeed; to do all that not because we have to but because we choose to; to bring this play, which would otherwise be lying dusty on some bookshelf somewhere, to life; to feel the panic of stagefright and to slay that dragon and boldly inhabit Dr. Gibbs; to build something - Wilder's script is just the blueprint, we are the architects, engineers and construction crew; to be alive more than I would have been without it.

Now that's what I call a stimulus plan.

One of the things that strikes me over and over about our production of "Our Town" is how much life imitates art. Or maybe it's the other way around. Some of this is due to the genius of Thornton Wilder's play and why it's endured for 70 years, In our case, when you get a bunch of "just plain folks" to play a cast of "just plain folks," it's just bound to ring true. None of us is in "Our Town" because we have visions of stardom. Most of us, I think, couldn't say for sure why we're in it. The chance to work with director Bob DuCharme is what sealed the deal for me - maybe for some of the rest of us, too.

The upshot of all this is it's been a real treat seeing us all pull together, find out about each other, take an interest in each other, care about each other ... despite the differences in our ages (10-70) and backgrounds.

Proof positive of the pure spirit in our production can be found in our leads, George and Emily, played by Daniel Renaud and Wendy Raymond. Despite all the fine opportunities for young actors - Robert Kramsky at BUHS, New England Youth Theatre - these two have never been in a play before. They're good friends, and they've decided to take the plunge into acting, and it's been great watching them grow before our eyes. They have challenging parts, and they've worked really hard to get it right.

And we've gotten to know them. Daniel had hopes of getting into flight school; Wendy's a hard worker who wants to be a nurse. We've been rooting for them as they waited for their college acceptance letters.

Then, one day at the end of rehearsal last week. They asked to do this one scene, where George is telling Emily of his hopes and dreams to become a farmer. They asked if the rest of the cast would watch them ... presumably to show us that they had finally mastered a difficult scene. Instead, as he was reciting his lines, Daniel veered deliberately off the script to let us know that he had been accepted into aviation school at Daniel Webster, in the Concord/Manchester, N.H. area. And Wendy replied that she had been accepted at Saint Anselm to study nursing.

Yep, these two friends, who inspired each other to take a mighty plunge into acting together will be going to college 10 miles away from each other.

The cast smiled and applauded at the news. It was an immensely warm and satisfying moment.

It was ... so Grover's Corners.

Our production of "Our Town" took a giant leap forward last night (Tuesday). We have covered so much ground, but over the last few days, we have faced the challenges of the final week of rehearsal. We knew our lines, we knew our blocking, but then we added things like costumes, props, lights, sound cues, being on the stage full time, and that touched off a whole new set of things to adjust too.

The mood of the cast has always been upbeat, but the last few rehearsals reminded us how far we have to come. Last night, we seemed to assimilate all those new things and had a very positive run-through; our confidence levels, pace and energy all took off.

Tonight and Thursday, we have our dress rehearsals, and you are welcome to come around 7:15 p.m. to the St. Michael's school auditorium to check it out. No doubt there will still be a few bugs, but it's coming down the wire, and we are looking strong.

The last few days have reminded me that in order to do community theater, you have to enjoy the process. You have to be inspired by the challenge of solving all the problems, and you have to take a certain amount of pleasure in the rehearsal process. We're all laughing as we make the mistakes we learn from - that's a good sign.

Performances of Thornton Wilder's "Our Town" are Friday and Saturday, April 24 and 25, at 7:30 p.m. in the St. Michael's auditorium, with a matinee on Sunday at 2 p.m. Tickets are available at the door, and proceeds benefit St. Michael's School.

It's 10:28, Thursday night, and I've been home for about 10 minutes after a very successful final dress rehearsal for the St. Michael's Players' production of "Our Town." Over the last two days the show has really taken shape. All the raw ingredients had been assembled, but we really began cooking with them, and the results have been stunning.

How stunning? Tonight, in the final scene, our George, Daniel Renaud, who had minimal acting experience when he signed on to do "Our Town" cried real tears on stage. It was powerful.

The challenge of the past week - with rehearsals now five nights in a row, and really intense - has been astounding. I've enjoyed the mental aspect of it - remembering lines and blocking, moving past working from memory to begin really acting, adding costumes, props and and tech cues into the mix, working out new problems that arise. It seems as if there's always one more thing to think about just when you've got it all down.

And you know what, we're rising to it and really building something worth seeing.

"Our Town" is a surprising kind of masterpiece - and one that saves its very forceful impact for the final act. If you haven't seen it (or haven't seen it in a while) do yourself a favor and come see our production. It's one of those plays, I think, that's iconic and well known in a vague sort of way, but that few people have actually seen. There's a lot to Thornton Wilder's great play, and it delivers some wisdom about life that really is worth hearing.

And there's value in community theater, too. No, we're not going to win any Tony Awards, and nobody's going to pick up our option to extend the run. Come Monday, we all go back to our former lives - but they will be changed, if only a bit, for having done "Our Town." There's intrinsic value in seeing ones friends and neighbors bring this play - and any play - to life. Live theater is not television, and it's not the movies, and it's not an iPhone. It's great words and great drama brought to life in the moment. There is a connection between the performers and the audience. When you're there watching and we're there performing, we're all doing something together. It's an experience that is special, unique to the moment and akin to all the other things we do together - live, work, play, marry, die, etc.

"Our Town" is an especially good experience because so much of its subject matter deals directly with this notion of live theater.

It's also something very traditional in New England communities. I just read a book about Vermont life in small towns in the 1930s, true stories, and there were a lot of references to folks acting in and watching local theater - in part to pass the time, but I think there's something else to it, too. It's just plain better to bring "Our Town" to life than not to. All those scripts we used, could have just sat there in some warehouse, unused. Instead, they're the blueprint for what we're doing.

Between that, and our own hearts and souls, sweat, mental and physical imagery, willingness to slay our fears and just plain eagerness to join together, befriend and care for each other and make a play, something wonderful is taking place.

It's marvelous alchemy, indeed.

"Our Town" plays at St. Michael's School on Walnut Street in Brattleboro on Friday and Saturday, April 24 and 25, at 7:30 p.m., and Sunday, April 26, at 2 p.m. Tickets are available at the door, and proceeds benefit the school.

Another opening of another show ...

An emotional and uplifting night for all of us, as we finally got to show our "Our Town" - and what a treat. No, I don't mean for the audience, I can't speak for them, I mean for us. To have an audience to do this for - and an appreciatave one at that - lifted our already high spirits higher. You could tell - we were happy and boisterous in the dressing room after the show.

We finally did it, and I know we feel proud. I feel profoundly grateful to the audience, too. They came and gave us the gift of their presence, their attention, their laughter, their applause ... their selves.

It went very well. We continue to tighten things like a drum, and we're really feeling confident. That's not to say it went flawlessly. There were things that happened, but those things don't matter. Perfection is not the point.

But you should come see it anyway. You will laugh. You might cry. You will be entertained, and you could be moved. Performances continue Saturday night at 7:30 p.m., and Sunday at 2 p.m., at the St. Michael's School auditorium. Tickets are available at the door.

"Our Town" is an amazingly well-wrought piece; it so subtly and artfully sets us all up for the poignant powerhouse of its final act. Its call - to take in all of life as we live it, and to love all of the people around us as well as we can while we can - is one we can never hear enough.

Its relevance was driven home by what we in the cast saw as we walked around behind the school, getting from the dressing room to backstage. There, up the rise, on the street behind us, people were lined up, waiting to offer their condolences to Bill Corbeil's family.

Well, "Our Town" has ended, and I'm sure the rest of cast is feeling like I am this morning - a little empty inside.

It's hard to face the abrupt end of something that gone so well and brought us all together intensely. I've been in quite a few plays and musicals, and few casts I've known have ever been so devoid of egos and so caring about each other. We all got really close, and it's hard to leave these new friends behind.

I knew nobody ... nobody ... in the cast when we started. I came to enjoy everybody, and I will miss them. For two months, these folks became something of a family - you can't choose your family, and we didn't choose each other. But we all got along, and we all came to know each other and understand each other and tolerate each other and enjoy each other -- much like with family.

So now it's back to everyday life, and for a time, I will feel the absence of "Our Town" with an ache. This morning, as I got up, I found myself replaying scenes -- little snapshots of memory - in my mind. But I will be changed.

Something special happened to all of us who took part. To those who haven't experienced community theater, that may be the answer to the question: Why do you do it?

Just like that DVD you bring home, it wouldn't be right if I didn't offer some "bonus features" with this writing on "Our Town." So here are some outtakes.

A successful run of any show does not follow a smooth, steady arc of progress toward perfection. There are fits and starts, bumps in the road and, yes, a lot of funny moments along the way. Any theater veteran has his stories about things that have gone wrong through the years. I remember one musical in college where one of the leads was doing a dance during a song when his shoe flew off and arced into the orchestra pit. Nothing to do but see the humor in it and keep going, one shoe on and one shoe off.

So here are some things that made us laugh in Grover's Corners, N.H.

During a dress rehearsal, the Emily character, played so well by Wendy Raymond, called her stage brother Harvey instead of Wally. We made it through the scene and then laughed about it afterward. From that moment on, Clark Hamm, who played Wally, was called Harvey a lot ... except on stage.

During one speech in the third act, the stage manager describes the dead as being "weaned away" from earth. For some reason, that phrase "weaned away" caught the ear of some of us backstage, and we began to sing in a whisper "weaned away, weaned away, weaned away ..." as if that were the prelude to "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." From now on, I know I won't hear that song without thinking of the phrase "weaned away."

Speaking of memorable lines, I was talking with one of the cast members during a break, who explained to me that he came to theater very late in life and wish he'd started sooner. He proudly outed himself as part of the "Gray and Thespian Community." That's a great line I'll always remember.

During my first scene as Dr. Gibbs, I finish delivering my lines and announce I'll go upstairs to catch as nap. Just as I'm walking off stage, Rebecca, played so well by Mackenzie Reilly, yells her first line "MAAAAAAAAA!" from offstage. As it worked out, every time she delivered that line, I was walking past her, my ears roughly six inches from her mouth as she yelled her line. The blast was deafening, and it soon became a running joke. Could I make it offstage and past Mackenzie before her first line blasted me? The other actors laughed every time I couldn't get past her.

There are a lot of other funny memories and other outtakes - we skipped about half a page during one of the performances, including the line which was everyone's cue to exit. When we realized what had happened, we had to drift offstage without an exit line, hopefully looking like we knew what we were doing.

In a cast refreshlingly devoid of egos, I suspect the applause we got and the success we had mattered less than the experience we all shared together. And these funny moments - and many others like them - are a big part of it.

Who knew Grover's Corners was such a funny place?

A funny thing happened when I put the new CD "Shelving Rock" on my CD player one morning last week - everybody in my family stopped to listen.

That may not sound like much, but you have to consider what mornings are like in our house - a helter skelter jumble of barked commands from my wife and me and seemingly unrelated actions by our two kids, culminating in a mad whoosh out the door.

But when I put "Shelving Rock" on, they all paused, stopped and listened. My 4-year-ol began swinging her hips in time to the rhythm, my wife (normally an oasis of focus in our otherwise chaotic world) commented that she liked what she heard, and even my 9-year-old, the pop princess, for whom anything written before 2006 is old-school dreck, pulled the ear buds out of ear, listened and said "This is good."

I think that speaks volumes about this new CD from T. Breeze Verdant and Stephen Iachetta. There is something eminently listenable about "Shelving Rock." True, it's probably not going to win any Grammys, but this companionable collection of 10 songs has the capacity to win people over.

In the liner notes, the musicians explain that this CD was recorded "live" in Julian McBrowne's Hidden Drive Studio, with no overdubs. I think much of the CD's appeal lies in that fact. It sounds like what it is - two friends getting together and jamming warmly and energetically. There's an organic and amiable feel to the CD - the image of two friends playing together, smiling together and trading licks, say, on a front porch, is very endearing, and this CD conjures up that image. It's perfect summertime music.

Iachetta on mandolin and violin and Verdant on guitar, vocals and stompbox, comes from different "schools." Iachetta bills himself as a "Shaker fiddler" - his sound is very old-timey. Verdant comes from a folky-rock school. Together, their separate experiences fit together like fingers around an ice cream cone.

Together they venture through a John Prine song, three traditional tunes and several Verdant originals in a style that is loose, laid back and well-intentioned. And we get to listen in!

Verdant and Iachetta will be playing together tonight (Friday) at McNeill's Brewery (as if you needed another reason to go there) and Saturday starting at 10:45 a.m. at SIT. Check 'em out.