strange radiation: the pool of radiance archive
Adventures with an unreliable narrator.
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Sep 30 05: shaggadelia
Tonight Paul and I joined the Fabulous Chorus Babes for a little post-work theatrical experience. We saw a show I would never have imagined possible: a musical biography of The Shaggs.
The Shaggs, for those of you who are unfamiliar with their work, were the Wiggin sisters of Freemont, New Hampshire. I’ve written about them before. Their father was convinced that his daughters were destined to lift their family out of small-town blue-collar desperation, and that forming a rock band was the way they’d do it. He turned out to be wrong. Their single album, Philosophy of the World (1968), is said to be the worst rock album ever made. On the other hand, it was also rediscovered a decade later and declared a milestone in ‘outsider art,’ or at least its musical equivalent. Rolling Stone declared the 1980 reissue the “comeback album of the year.” In 1999 Susan Orlean (author of The Orchid Thief) wrote an article abut them for the New Yorker.
Maybe that article planted the seed for the musical. The Shaggs: Philosophy of the World is part of the NY Musical Theatre Festival, which is currently bouncing around the city and will continue to do so through the weekend. The program says it has been workshopped four or five times in Chicago and LA as well. When Darcy told us about it I knew I had to go see. Not just because once you’ve heard the anti-musical stylings of the Shaggs, you’ll never be the same, but because Gunnar Madsen wrote the music. And Gunnar and me, we go way back. Sort of. Gunnar Madsen, whether he knows it or not, made me the man I am today.
However, that’s a story for another time. Let’s talk about the show. It’s almost entirely faboo. The book takes a few dramatic liberties with the Wiggins’ story, but it works. The killer score ranges from gospel through pop to doo-wop and beyond. There’s also some wild-ass a capella stuff that demonstrates definitively that the actresses playing Helen and Betty and Dot can sing. In a couple of very clever scenes when we hear what the Shaggs’ songs really sounded like, it’s via a cut from the original recordings. No, trust me, it works. My two complaints were technical. First, the air conditioning in the theatre was glacial. Apparently its only other setting was “off,” and if they went that route then the cast died of heatstroke well before intermission. Second, the sound system was seriously wonky. It’s a tiny house, but the actors had to be miked, and the mikes cut in and out on more than a few occasions. But neither of these are deal-breakers. Oh, and perhaps best of all: Fifteen bucks! Cheap!
Go see it, if you get the chance. It runs through Sunday.