Panned by the Post!

Perhaps not so much panned as pshawed.
There’s a 5 day revival of the best of the 24 Hour Plays called 24 is 10 going up at the Fringe festival in New York this week. And I guess I should’ve blogged it before it went down, but my play went up night before last. It was Sizable Town, the first 24 hour play I ever wrote, in 1998. And it was much better than I remembered it: I was drunk that entire year.
Plus it featured my homeboy Brent Cox. Who is fresh.
The Post did shout out the performance of Julie Wright in my play, though, who was genius, and who was stricken with stage fright beforehand. Message: stage fright pays off.
This the Post after all, so it’s rull hard to give it much credence. And I recieved exactly the satisfaction I was hoping for: I sat next to Rachel Dratch in the balcony, and she giggled through the entire thing.

Elizabeth Berkley:

Is a killing actress, with the sharpest comic timing. This I discovered as she rocked the stage in the 24 Hour Plays night before last.

Reality Discovers Itself.

There was this amazing moment at the end of Pimp My Ride where they actually showed a blooper reel. The pimp-ee’s plump redheaded girlfriend was leaping up and down going “Holy Toledo! Your car looks amazing!” when she started laughing uncontrollably and somebody yelled “Cut!” off-camera.

Binge on Thin Lizzy.

I’ve been pulling my hair out demoing songs for my record company and manager, and desperate to rest my tired ears, I downloaded a boatload of Thin Lizzy tunes. Aka the guys who played “The Boys Are Back In Town”
Huge admirer of the late Phil Lynott–a black Irish guy, abandoned Dublin-born child of an African-Brazilian father. This amazing soulful hangdog voice. He was an opiates guy–died of a heroin overdose at 35, one year younger than I am as I type this–that keeps happening as I get older.
I discovered him as freshman in high school because I was in the Columbia records and tapes club and I think I had an extra record to buy, so I bought their final album, a live record where they get together all forty seven dudes who played guitar with them and play their greatest hits.
There’s been kind of a Phil Lynott revival of late–Scott Ian praising him on VH1–but back then I was the only guy I knew who knew them at all. Even in college, I tried to hip my drummer to them, and he laid Phil Lynott low with a hipster coup de grace: “He sounds like Eddie Money.”
I went down to Prospect Park and sat by the boathouse and listened, and some of the songs are so, so very corny, but always his voice is so charming and beautiful.
Here’s something weird: there was a “reunion” a few years ago, where the drummer and guitar player got together with faceless dudes and toured and played the hits. Turns out one of the tunes I downloaded was from the cheap-o live CD they put out and I didn’t even recognize it as such. Whatever singer they got had Phil Lynott down to the last tearful nuance.
Maybe something admirable about that.
Maybe I’ll do a little iTunes, uh, i-List, or mac-list, or whatever you call it, of fun groovy Thin Lizzy deep cuts or something. Yeah.

Denied Access to Comedy Hero.

I became a huge fan of Paul F. Tompkins when I was out in L.A. making a record, and my old A&R guy at Warner Bros. would take me to the Monday night comedy thing at Largo on Fairfax.
I discovered he was a fan one night when I was glum and I looked to see who had “Added Me As a Favorite” and he was there, and I wrote him a freaked out note, and it turned out it was actually him and we had a fine moment of mutual fandom and logrolling.
And he’s playing UCB this Monday and sadly I must be in Connecticut, in the land of Manute Bol.

Psyched About the Burton/Depp Film Version of Sweeney Todd.

(I saw the current revival of it on Broadway–never heard it before then–and was just blown away.)
Burton/Depp version: voila.
Though in my mind the movie’s using the amazing small-ensemble arrangements of the current version, which almost certainly it won’t be. I bet Tim Burton will go for the big ole spectacular throwback Broadway style.
PS. I still think that his “Chocolate Factory” is better than the original. Never was particularly fond of the Oompa-Loompa song anyway (that’s the only thing in the movie on which Burton does not improve).
Also: two words: Deep Roy. The inspired, Buster-Keaton-esque little person actor who plays, via movie magic, all the Oompa Loompas. Please make with the rental of DVD, OK? If love of self: rent. And be make the glad.