Last night there was a fund raising concert for the show to cover some extra expenses and to purchase the equipment necessary for some of the staging effects that Greg Tamblyn is envisioning for the show. Our most sincere thanks goes out to all those who attended and to those who so generously contributed.
I can only report second hand, but from my contact with a couple of the attendees Greg did a fabulous job of setting up the numbers and Michael and the actors delivered so poignantly and powerfully that, for instance, in Somewhere Beyond audience members were moved to tears.
Years ago I remember not wanting to see Les Miserables because I was sure there was no way a musical could capture the beauty and eloquence of Victor Hugo’s novel without trivializing and commercializing it to the point of ruining it. Once I finally gave in and saw the show I realized I couldn’t have been more wrong. As I sat with tears streaming down my cheeks experiencing for the first time the character of Fantine singing I Dreamed a Dream my epiphany was that the right music and the right lyrics added to the right story have the potential to collate into some of the most moving forces in all existence.
I still remember writing Somewhere Beyond, in fact I hope I never forget writing it. My 6’1” and still growing 16 year old son Zerin, whose greatest joy these days seems to be finding clever ways to remind me that he is now taller than his dad (Hey Dad, you know what it’s like to be this tall? Imagine you’re standing on a ladder, but you’re not …), was only about 5 when I wrote the song. He was afraid of something and couldn’t go to sleep, so I had taken him in my office and held him and rocked him and hummed the music to Somewhere Beyond to him over and over and over.
As he fell asleep and he grew heavier and heavier in my arms I was weeping almost uncontrollably. I went on with tears streaming down my cheeks (they’re coming back now) to write most of the song that night and into the early hours of the morning with my boy, my beautiful boy, Zerin draped awkwardly across my lap and with snow falling outside my windows. “My boy, my beautiful boy, is it true thou art fallen to sleep beneath the icy shroud of snow fall…” After experiencing the sorrow of that night I don’t know how a father bears the loss of a son, but I had written this song as an anthem to those fathers, Prometheus included. “…My boy, my beautiful boy, to thee I sing that our hearts may be healed by song.”
Back to the subject of the progress of the play, in talking to Greg today he assures me that the sets and costumes are coming along fabulously, and that the cast is doing a phenomenal job of bringing the story to life.
It’s such a wonderful thing to be able to have so much faith in Michael and Greg. In one of these future installments I’ll have to take a moment to write about what a pleasure the process has been working with them.
Finally, if any of you would like tickets the opening weekend, please let me know and I’ll do my best to get them blocked out for you. Also, if you’d like to try to get into opening night, do let me know. I’ve had a couple people who I had reserved tickets for who are unable to attend, so as of today I have a two extra tickets. There may be more as the show grows closer.