My Weeknight with Jason

Phew...that was some hiatus. After over a year of blogging, I needed to recharge my batteries. Re-evaluate The A Train's purpose.

To be honest, I'm not sure I've come to a definitive conclusion. But, I have done some things and met some characters in the past few weeks who merit a post. So let's start with them.

First of all, it should be noted that the JCC Manhattan (76th and Amsterdam) has some of the best programming I've ever encountered. Seriously, I don't even know how the get these high profile people to speak and—once they get names that people will come clambering for—manage to provide an engaging and intimate environment. Check out their offerings. In the words of Seth Rudetsky, BRAVA!

This past Monday, I attended "A Deeper Look at The Last Five Years" a conversation with composer/lyricist Jason Robert Brown. Jason Robert Brown is the musical mastermind behind such show as Songs for a New World, Broadway's 13, and Parade—for which he won a Tony. Jason Robert Brown (of the three part name trend) approached the stage with the air of a philharmonic conductor. His jet black hair flounced in the AC and I thought his serious, stiff, nerdy handshake might send our moderator flying on impact from the jerked movement. I adored it. So nerdy. So official. So esteemed.

Personally, there is nothing I find more interesting than listening to an artist explain their process, how things came to be. The backstage look. No doubt my experience from Monday will imbue The Last Five Years with even more meaning once I see it—just as hearing Malcolm Gladwell speak enhanced my reading of The Tipping Point (to be discussed next time).

This spring, Second Stage brings back Brown's stunning (and Drama-Desk-winning) The Last Five Years under his direction. A musical of just two onstage characters, Jamie and Cathy, the piece tells the story of a relationship, including its inception and demise. Jamie tells the story forward; Cathy tells it backwards; they converge only once: at their wedding. That's the two-second version.

It's a brilliant concept to say the least, one that Brown says "just hit me all at once." Lincoln Center had commissioned him to do a new work. He had no idea for this work. As he was walking from home to Lincoln Center to present his idea for said work it came to him. Now, rather than saying "Oh, it couldn't possibly have just hit him! That doesn't just happen," I argue that this is the difference between creative genius and ordinary people. After all, genius quite literally means "an exceptional natural capacity for intellect."

He had the idea that a love story could be, and should be, told both forwards and backwards. This is not the way the structure evolved. This is the way it was born. Of course, he also admits that "the idea of playing with time...Merrily [We Roll Along] and Arcadia...as a dramatic and emotional way of storytelling" seemed truthful and powerful and appealing. But really, the story—in his words—is about "Two people who cannot figure out how to be in the same place at the same time." In that case, how could he have ever thought to structure it any other way?

It is because these ideas synthesize so naturally to Brown (I'm sorry can we call him Jason? He was just so cordial and Jewishly familiar the other day).... It is because these ideas come so naturally to Jason that he is a genius. It's not odd for him. Concepts, musical phrases, sounds they just come to him. That's why he writes and wins awards.

BUT arguably, and more importantly, this is why he reaches his audiences in such a way that probe our core. If you are a Jason Robert Brown fan, you are a fan of raw storytelling. You are a fan of deep beauty in music. Not only do concepts come to him intuitively, he has a gift when it comes to human emotion. It's that affinity for truth and relatability that bears a JRB fan.

Monday night was not just a conversation, it was also a behind-the-scenes concert. (Yay!) Jason performed interludes of his own music throughout the evening. No song of his more aptly demonstrates his ability to tap into penetrating, speech-stealing, graphic emotion than in his song "If I Didn't Believe In You" from Last Five Years. 

If you listened to that linked video (which for your soul-enrichment's sake I pray you did), you know that the melody is stunning and expressive. But what always impresses me about Jason's songs are his lyrics. They bullseye a truth that—to the rest of us—seems inexplicable. I mean, in this song there is a man breaking to prove to his wife that of course he loves her, and believes in her, and chooses her. Just because he won't compromise his own success to prove it, doesn't mean it isn't true:

If I didn't believe in you
Then here's where the travel log ends
If I didn't believe in you
I couldn't have stood before all of our friends

And said "This is the life I choose
This is the thing I can't bear to lose
Trip us, or tap us but we refuse to fall"
That's what I thought we'd agreed on

Cathy, If I hadn't believed in you...
I wouldn't have loved you...at all.

Have you ever heard more unerring lyrics in terms of human truth? I'm not married, but I know many married people. My feeling from them is that at that moment, the moment they were married, they stood before everyone and made this be all end all choice. Jason captures that in words.

He talked a bit about his lyrics because an audience member commented that they breathe authenticity, to which Jason answered, "If it doesn't feel real, I can't do it." Matter-of-factly, as a singer he knows when something comes out of his mouth is bullshit. He doesn't believe in bullshit.

Not in writing. Also not in performing. As is well-known in the theatrical community, Jason's songs are notoriously difficult to sing. A role of his is insane to perform because, well, you have to be able to sing and act multiple magnum opuses eight times a week. Jason emphasized that there is a very small group of people, Olympians he called them, who can handle that. When asked if the actors eventually cast in his shows resent the difficulty, Jason shrugged "The really good ones don't resent me and the bad ones shouldn't do it."Brutal truth. Amen.

Jason's not afraid to speak his mind. Some would describe him as arrogant. I would describe him as blunt with a touch of (earned) ego. Just as in his lyrics, he doesn't believe in bullshit.

Jesse Green, our moderator, began to prompt JRB, "So I know that [your character] Jamie is a very prodigal young man and your career also took off early, but many have asked before if it's autobiographical and you've said no—." "Oh that's horseshit. Of course, it's autobiographical. It's about me and, well, my ex-wife." Yes! Let's NOT beat around the bush. All you folks who may become famous out there. Don't get cute. Call a spade a spade. Take a page out of Jason's book. Let the people who want to know the behind-the-scenes GO behind the scenes! Trust me, we will love you for it.

In between these moments of admission, discussions of his career, pieces of his personal struggles, and his writing choices, he sang, self-accompanied. JRB can sing—he's no Norbert Leo Butz—but he can sing. But, I was in awe watching him play. He commands the piano. He has tamed it, but knows exactly how to pull out the big guns. He is masterful and it was an honor to hear him play.

As to whether he'll write something for Broadway, he prefers a smaller scale. "I couldn't put up a show [on Broadway] unless it was very broad, and my shows are very specific. It's hard to produce narrow," he said. Well thank G-d this country is not one big Broad Way or we might never hear from him again.

A few days later, I tuck away his comments, his answers, his process, his questions, his knowledge to use in my own creative process.

I cannot even describe how excited I am to finally see a live production (and what should be a good one at that) of The Last Five Years and not just rely on YouTube anymore. But moreso, I am grateful to have had the opportunity to listen to Jason, to hear his thought process, to feel like I was sitting in a coffee shop talking to an old friend. Break a leg, old friend.