Get Personal

This past week my good friend Danny Chan posted this clip of Aziz Ansari about what it's like to be single these days. (Thanks, Danny!)

Now, when I started this blog I was clear—at least to myself—that this was not a dating blog. This was not about "a young single gal in New York, woo!" But I cannot deny that relationships and, even more simply, the way in which we communicate and relate to one another has a bearing on living an A+ life. 

As Aziz said, "It's like I'm this secretary for this shoddy organization, planning the dumbest shit, for the flakiest people ever." When I posted this link on Facebook, so many people liked it—which I take to mean that they have experienced this very situation and that they, too, are frustrated by it. The thing is, we are complicit in this behavior. We allow people to treat us this way. And we, too, start to play along. This doesn't just apply to dating and navigating single life. I'm talking about friendships, too. 

For some reason, we have become a culture that values detachment. It's better not to care. But why? Why do we want to be friends with or go out with someone who doesn't care about us? 

My challenge to you is to instigate change. Start caring. Start telling people that you care. Make plans! Don't be afraid of committing to an activity. Then, keep those plans as best you can. Of course, things come up. I'm not saying life is perfect, but err on the side of planning and doing and going. Call a friend instead of texting them once in a while. Hear the tone and emotion in their voice. Choose to connect with people instead of constantly zapping meaningless notes between devices. I'm not in denial of technology. Texting is useful, but I think our reliance on it is not. 

In the words of Jane Fonda (watch the 2-minute video here to better yourself), we need to learn to be emotionally literate again. Basically: we need to grant ourselves permission to feel. 

New York Moment: My New York Reminder

It can be easy to forget why I live in New York. 

My apartment has earned the label "cozy," and while I like that it feels homey and comfortable I'd rather it felt homey and comfortable and spacious. Getting anywhere is a project since it's nearly impossible to follow that shortest distance of a single line between point A and point B. Everyone is frantic—rushing and running to the next thing in our overpacked lives. Buzzfeed seems to come out with a new thing each week about what a pain it is to live here, or annoying things New Yorkers only understand. I laughed, because it's true. And I got to the end of those ridiculous excuse for an article (that's right Buzzfeed, lists are not articles) and wondered why I put up with all of this?

But this past weekend, I was reminded not only why I live in New York, but why I harbor such love for this place. It was City Center's Encores! production of A Bed and A Chair: A New York Love Affair that reminded me to smirk a little when I think of NYC, rather than scowl. 

The show was a Sondheim revue starring Bernadette Peters, Norm Lewis, Jeremy Jordan, and ridiculously awesome jazz singer Cyrille Aimee (see: Dream Team), and four dancers as their emotional alter egos—including my brother's friend and former castmate Tyler Hanes. Since seeing this show, I've decided that all Sondheim should always be performed as jazz. Sondheim's music can often be dark—beautifully complex, but dark. Yet, infused with the big band sound of the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, it was just so...happy! Bouyant and rich. And this musical fusion reflected on New York itself. New York life is complicated, it's difficult, but it's also a deep wealth of emotion and culture and connections and vivacity—and I had forgotten that.  

As the singers sang about their romances—both with each other and New York—landscape photography projections of the sprawling city splashed on the walls of the theater. It gave me chills to hear songs like "Giants in the Sky" from Into the Woods and look up at humungous skyscrapers from hundreds of feet below. YES! That's totally what it feels like! Sometimes I do feel overwhelmed like an overeager Jack and the Beanstalk. But that feeling is also thrilling. Or to see photos of the New York City skyline as the band riffed. I felt an unbelievable swelling in my heart to know that amongst those buildings sits my cozy apartment. I am part of that landscape.

But the whole performance also reminded me why I was so excited to move to New York in the first place. On a Friday night I can just decide, "Hey I think I'll go spend $30 to see some Broadway titans and the best jazz band in the country make some music for 90 minutes." Or on Saturday night I can swing by Subculture and see the writer of "Same Love" perform an intimate solo concert. I can wake up for Sunday brunch at the best breakfast restaurant in the city and I can also choose to just lay on my couch and do nothing. New York gives me all of these choices. 

All that frantic hustle and bustle, it's energy that I can choose to use as fuel to light my fire. Not getting directly from point A to point B—do you know how many more books I read now that I don't have to watch the road?

I'm proud to say that I accomplish the feat of living here day in and day out. In fact, it dawned on me that when I'm older and I have kids running around some suburban house, I kind of hope they pridefully say to their friends, "Yeah. My mom lived in New York." That's right. I conquered it. And I'm glad that even when I start to wonder if New York is just too much, it seduces me back when it showers me with gifts like Friday night.

25 and the Hero of My Story

I'm officially 16 days into 25. A lot of my friends freaked when they joined the quarter century club. I don't know if it's a consequence of playing catching up to everyone in my class, or having friends who are years older who think I'm already 27, or just a general happiness about hitting another birthday, but I feel excited. I can honestly say that this was the best birthday I've ever had and I'm hoping that's a good omen for the year. (I'm also hoping that it doesn't end up being the best birthday ever for the rest of my life, because wouldn't that be sad to peak at 25?)

I felt incredibly blessed this year to have had SO many people who reached out with birthday wishes and made me feel special. (It could have also had to do with the ridiculous sugar high I was on thanks to the birthday destination to beat all birthday destinations: The Sugar Factory. If you haven't been there, you need to go. Order the Make a Wish Milkshake a.k.a liquid cake. You're welcome, America.) And because I decided that birthdays are never actually less than a week long, we celebrated at a hidden gem of a venue. Now I'm going to tell you the name of it, but only because the staff was ridiculously accommodating and over-the-top friendly that I want this place to do business so that all of those lovely people have jobs. Hudson Bond. There I gave away the secret. I'm pretty sure I don't need to go anywhere else on a Saturday night ever. 

After the birthday festivities: my parents came in town this past weekend and we decided to see a show—which we haven't done as an almost-whole family in a really long time (sorry, Emma!). We went to see Big Fish A New Broadway Musical. You know, based on the movie which was based on the book. Now I'm not a hater of musicals based in movies. (If I were I would have nothing to see.) On the contrary, I think more often than not these adaptations are huge creative successes (thanks Legally Blonde, Hands on a Hardbody, Kinky Boots, and Matilda). Big Fish can be added to that roster. Aside from the fact that Norbert Leo Butz should win another Tony, that Kate Baldwin has established herself as the Cate Blanchett of musicals (equal parts stunning, demure, talented), and that Susan Stroman has solidified her genius status, the bright colors and at times absurdity of Big Fish reminded me the importance of imagination.

How vastly underused is this unique human ability. 

With our iPhones in our hands we never have to wonder what anything looks like. Just google image it. Even in our storytelling, we've lost flexibility. How many times have you gone to a movie—let's say a rom com—and thought at the end "that would never happen." First of all, why not? Second of all, who cares? I'm starting to think we're all too grounded in reality. Why NOT tell a wildly fanciful story?

We lament getting older (and hitting birthdays like 25) because kids have more fun. And why do they have more fun? Because they invent fantasy worlds. They play pretend! Norbert's character is a BIG supporter of fantasy. The teller of tall tales, he sings to his son in the opening number "Be the hero of your story." On the one hand, I think he is saying that if you're telling the story and its all pretend, why not make yourself the hero? But, simultaneously, he urges his son to be the hero of his own life and each story that weaves the fabric of that life.

I realize that that's part of why I felt so amazing on my 25th birthday. I felt like the hero of my story. It's tradition that each birthday I reflect on the year before and think of the best moments of that year. Turns out, 24 had a lot of amazing moments. So at 25 I feel accomplished. Not hang-my-hat-up-and-retire accomplished, but on-a-good-path accomplished. I feel like the hero of my story and I'm excited for the surprise ending.

So while last year I officially became a writer, in this coming year I want to tell more stories. I want to exercise my imagination to the boundaries of absurdity and I want to consistently try to remain the hero of my true story.

Back From The Dormant: A Mission and A Music Venue

Helloooo out there!!!!!!!!!

It has been waaaay to long since I've written. You know when people used to go on vacation, their mothers would say "Don't forget to write!" Well even though this is 2013 and no one forgets to write because we live on our iPhones, it appears I have forgotten to write you for many many months. I hope this letter finds you well.

The truth is, back when I started this blog I was trying to just keep up writing and exercise that muscle of writing for an audience. Well, my practice (and revival of connections with my former editors) paid off. For those who don't know, I officially freelance for Backstage magazine—a publication about theater and film for industry professionals (actors, directors etc.). I write theater news regularly enough to have a two-page list on Backstage.com when you search my name. But enough about me.

Two very important business items (and the fact that I missed you) bring me back to The A Train. I also want to get back to focusing on living an A+ life in this city—since I think that central motivation went dormant with this blog. Alas, a Fall Awakening. 

An important date is approaching. On October 1, Congress is set to decide upon the federal budget. This past summer, the House appropriations subcommittee put forth a bill that would cut the funding for the National Endowment of the Arts nearly in half (49%, but who's counting?). While investigating budgets, and House representatives, and arts organizations across the country for the article I wrote about this potential catastrophe, I came upon an important story that did not fit into my 500-word count. 

The Cleveland Public Theater is an organization I found in my research that would be direly affected by budget cuts. Aside from producing shows regionally, this theater partnered to create the Gordon Square Arts District in Cleveland—an area that once had a lone bar that you would not want to blink at that is now a thriving haven of restaurants, bars and overall hipness. Aside from the District, CPT sponsors a program called the Y-Haven Theatre Project to help rehabilitate some of Cleveland's homeless through theater arts and performance. Executive Artistic Director Raymond Bobgan proves through his work with CPT that the arts cross all sorts of boundaries to improve our society.

You have from now until October 1 to call, write, Tweet, shout from your building rooftop to your local representative to tell them what you think about such a cut in NEA funding. I hope you'll say that it's unacceptable for these reasons:

1) For those of you who are not "arts people,"I first urge you to reconsider if you ever enjoyed a concert, a movie, a show. If you have never enjoyed any of these things (well I wonder if you have a soul) but seriously, just know this: nationwide the arts generates over $130 billion in annual economic activity, supports over 4 million jobs and returns over $9 billion in tax revenue. So even though you may think the arts are sucking us dry, the numbers say otherwise.

2) It is my personal belief that it is the arts that make us human. I am a child of the arts. I would not be who I am if music had never enriched my soul; if dance had never stretched my imagination; if theater had never made me burst into laughter or made my heart ache in places I didn't know it could; if rehearsal had never taught me the discipline to improve myself every single day; if my director hadn't pushed me to raise my expectations for myself every single night; if I had not been taught to connect to an audience. The arts made me who I am. The arts make us better. 

But if you cannot support the arts politically, at least go out and experience them! If you're in New York, I just checked out a new spot for you. Marc and Steven Kaplan, West

Hartford transplants and (full disclosure) close friends of mine, officially opened their music venue Monday night. 

SubCulture aims to bring the highest caliber of craftsmanship to its stage, spanning the gamut of musical genres. It's not a jazz club. It's not a blues lounge. It's not a cabaret. It is a home for music of the utmost quality. That is its only requirement to fit in.

Monday night I heard from jazz pianist Gregg Kallor, acclaimed singer Jo Lawry, Grammy-nominated pianist Fred Hersch, internationally renowned choral quartet New York Polyphony, and string quartet Ensemble ACJW. But by far, my favorite performances were from emerging artist Laila Biali and her accompanying jazz trio (shout out to Hall High alum Joel Frahm), and Richard Bona. Holy crap. If you have the chance to see Richard Bona perform, RUN TO HIM. Bona combines the best of funk, jazz, and African soul in his band's music, smacking you in the face with its unbelievable ability to make you groove. Think of a Cameroonian Stevie Wonder type. Just click on his page on listen. I dare you not to bob your head and dig into that beat...at your desk. I. Dare. You.

While the forward-facing concert-esque seating may strike as a bit uptight, it's only because the brothers Kaplan mean to remind you oh so subtly: You are here for the music. SubCulture's bronzed basement setting and prime location on Bleecker and Lafayette put you at the center of trendy, but if the talent they host is like the billing on opening night, these artists will be here for the ages. Choose your concerts wisely and venture into the arts underground.

Question. Answer. Malcolm Gladwell and the simple truths of storytelling

Malcolm Gladwell. Best-selling author of simple truths. In his writing, he breaks down truths that should be "self-evident" and renders them into fascinating prose. I read his second book, Blink, over a year ago. I liked it a lot. Found it interesting. Blink examined the way humans make decisions, how you can manipulate the decision of others (which is basically the business of advertising and marketing), and how some decisions are split-second and others are more of an analysis. But in terms of interesting, Malcolm Gladwell himself far outdoes anything I read in his book. 

A little over a month ago, I went to see a moderated discussion with Malcolm Gladwell as part of JCC Conversations (I told you their programming was amazing). Abigail Pogrebin, former producer for the likes of Charlie Rose, Bill Moyer, and Mike Wallace, and (now) acclaimed author herself was our guide for the evening. As it turned out, Malcolm needed little guidance to captivate his audience, but brava to Abigail for allowing her subject to tell his own story rather than forcing him in a direction she had planned on. 

Sitting in the spotlight, Malcolm's wiry figure exuded this zany energy—which seemed to split like electricity through the hairs in his afro. A literary Einstein of a man sat before me. The first thing that Gladwell said in response to how he finds such interesting people and trends to write about: "Most people are interesting." He asserts that the observer has the opportunity to find that 'interesting' piece of a person. He continued that most of us are wrong about what is interesting about ourselves. 

For example, I might think it's interesting that I have a blog. But that's not really interesting. Everyone has a blog now. What's interesting is that ever since the first grade my teachers were constantly telling me that I wrote too much and needed to follow the guidelines of length for my homework. My response back then was, but I have so much to say. SO, what's interesting is that even from the age of five I have had more thoughts than I know what to do with. (Of course, I could also be wrong about that being interesting based on Gladwell's statement that we don't know what is interesting about ourselves...but you get my point.)

Part of the reason Gladwell has been so successful in his writing, is that he has been able to uncover these seemingly obvious examples of interesting people and interesting trends, AND he has organized them in a way that puts random pieces together into a contiguous puzzle. 

For example, Gladwell spoke a lot about his upcoming book David and Goliath. Now in ancient times there were three divisions of the armed forces: the cavalry (with spears on either horseback or chariot), the slingers (like David who used slingshots and other stone-driven weapons), and the footmen (like Goliath who were basically the gruntmen or combat soldiers). Gladwell explained that this was a game of rock, paper scissors. Footmen always beat cavalry. Cavalry always beats slingers. Slingers always beat footmen. You do the math. David was always going to beat Goliath. It didn't matter that Goliath was bigger. David was a slinger, throwing a stone with incredible accuracy at 60 miles per hour. Goliath was a dead man and he knew it. 

So: Why are pretending that [this story] it's some miraculous victory?! Gladwell asks. "The whole mythology of that story is backwards. It suggests that there is something fundamentally amiss with how we think about advantage and disadvantage." Such was inspiration about Gladwell's latest study about perceived advantages (like wealth or Ivy League education) and perceived disadvantages (like a troubled childhood) in our society. 

It took a man who thinks like Gladwell to call into question a legend that has been passed down for 3,000 years and then to discover real-life examples to prove his point. 

I didn't read Gladwell's most famous book The Tipping Point until after that night. I find it fascinating how he seems to explain our own culture, our own behavior to us. In The Tipping Point, Gladwell explains word-of-mouth and practically maps a plan of how to make a trend or a product the next epidemic. I can only assume that he also used the principles of The Tipping Point to become as famous as he has. 

To listen to Gladwell tell a story, is to hear how he thinks. He spends a lot of time on details that cause him to sound like he is rambling on and following tangents. But it is precisely this attention to detail and his lack of fear of losing his audience to tangents that make him so brilliant. 

For instance, Pogrebin asked him about his mother's influence on him. Gladwell launched into a fifteen minute diatribe about his parents' marriage and how is mother was black and his father was white and his father asked for access to a library at a university in the US while he was working in the islands. The university was all up in arms because they didn't know if Gladwell's father was black or white and they couldn't reach him while he was in the Caribbean and oh-my-goodness what if he showed up and was black and they couldn't just let a black man into the library! Now that story is arguably unrelated to Pogrebin's original question, but how interesting!

Gladwell is not afraid to follow his own mind. During the Q&A portion of the evening, I asked Gladwell how he chooses the topics that he case studies, and once he selects his topic how he finds the real-life example to demonstrate his point. Gladwell's answer? Basically that he pays attention to the things the mainstream find unimportant. While watching a biography of someone famous on PBS, he pays attention to the quick mention of a side character. While reading a book, he reads the footnotes. Gladwell emphasized that he finds the facts and people that don't fit into a story more interesting than the plotline. 

You bet your bottom dollar that I've begun reading every footnote and considering each side-mention I come across. I'm trying more and more to act on my questions—to follow my question through to the answer. I want to follow my mind.

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.

Place Your BID For a Night On The Town

Happy Anniversary to me. Today is the date that marks the first birthday of The A Train! 

In honor of this occasion, I feel I must return to the roots of this blog. When I first started out, I wasn't sure what this writing space would turn into and I've definitely been feeling it out week to week. But one of my original intentions was to share my New York experiences (the best things to see and do) with all of you. As you know, I keep my schedule tight here in the Big Apple. 

This past week, I managed to squeeze in some new finds!

In celebration of last week's short 2.5 work days, I felt it only appropriate to treat every night like I didn't have to show up at the office the next day. Monday night I trained down to Christopher Street to see my friend Liam Forde's show We're Having a Dinner Party at The Duplex. A bar that looks more like a giant Dollar Store with light-up letters spelling D-U-P-L-E-X in its six arched windows, I ventured inside this Village haunt after walking by it approximately 63 times. (I made that number up.)

The Duplex has a cozy little cabaret theater on the upper floor, just around the corner from the televisions blasting Ru Paul's Drag Race All Stars. It's one large in-your-face dose of theatrical love.

The theater seats about 70. The audience scrunched around those tiny wheel-like dinner theater tables, rubbing knees with strangers, just like in all of those episodes of Seinfeld and Sex and the City. Anywho, Liam and I grew up in West Hartford doing shows together and he has always been an incredible talent. I hadn't yet been able to make it to one of his shows. "No time like the present," I thought and marched in by myself to a front row nook.

Liam and his co-host of Dinner Party, Babs Rubenstein, brought down the house. Seriously, there is a reason this girl is headed off on the first national tour of Priscilla Queen of the Desert. Diva. (In a good way.) Not only did Liam sing, he accompanied Babs...and played while he sang...and arranged all the music in the show...and composed three of the original songs. I feel so unproductive. 

As much as I love theater on the Great White Way, I beg of you to go to a small little 'nothing' show of no-name emerging artists, in the tight cabaret space of a dingy cheesy bar. That ten dollar cover will buy you a night of sheer enjoyment and quality entertainment.

On the flip side, you can do what I did last night and listen to slightly established groups play their music for free as part of a festival. I went to Winter's Eve at Lincoln Square—a night of free jazz, food tastings and holiday glee. My friend Adam and I listened to the Hot Sardines play some New Orleans jazz, until it got too cold to stand still outside in November. 

Luckily, Adam had heard about the event in advance so we actually planned to go (unlike many of the neighborhood passersby who just stopped in for a few minutes).
But these sorts of events happen all the time in neighborhoods like yours! The easiest way to find out about them is to go to your hood's BID website (Business Improvement District). BIDs are the organizations that actively work to bring people traffic to specific  city communities in order to boost the economy of local businesses. One of the most famous is the Times Square Alliance. 

Check out the BID website where you live. You never know what might be going on. Or, if you live in the most uncool place and nothing is going on there, pick some of your favorite areas and visit their BID's site for a calendar of events. There is so much going on, there's no need to miss out—even if you do have to work 5 days this week.