I don’t really go to the theater that often. I guess it’s just too hit or miss for me. Musicals are usually too - well - musical. Dramas usually seem to be too - well - dramatic. Most people in their twenties only seem to go to plays starring movie stars which usually suck (Wait Until Dark- Quentin Tarantino, Marisa Tomei), instead of attempting to tap into the world of true stage actors, a place where “do-overs” don’t count. I have seen a few good plays lately though, and the more good ones that I see the greater the likelihood that I will go see more in the future.

I guess it took hundreds of reviews, a piece on CBS Sunday morning, a website, and some great marketing to catch my attention enough to actually get me to the theater three blocks from where I work to see John Leguizamo’s brilliant one man show “Freak.” Leguizamo, is far more talented than his sketchy filmography might indicate (To Wong Foo, The Pest, Spawn, Super Mario Brothers). In “Freak” he combines the extraordinary verbal dexterity of a Robin Williams, the range of perfect multicultural impressions of a Tracy Ullman, the weirdness of a John Belushi, and the physical comedy skills of a Jim Carrey. The resulting combination is a very talented and amusing guy.
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Label:Flydaddy / V2

Like the most pleasant voice wafting softly from an enchanted forest, Richard Davies has triumphantly one-upped his near perfect post-Moles-Cardinal solo debut “There’s Never Been A Crowd Like This.” On his one-off Eric Matthews collaboration called Cardinal, it was Davies’ quirky lyrics that so perfectly offset the cerebral lushness of Matthews’ orchestral arrangements. As a law student in Australia, Davies found himself day-dreaming more about poetry than about legal code. Not long after abandoning the latter, he was writing clever lyrics to perfect melodies.

“Telegraph,” however, is another form of communication entirely. It’s a brilliant fusion of pure mellow psychedelic rock and gentle dream-pop. Something about the rolling upbeat simplicity of this effort will, no doubt, allow it to endure the test of time. In fact, when I someday unearth this gem for the children I may have, I expect they will find it as anachronistic as I do.

Beginning with the infectious “Cantina,” Davies has created an album that somehow succeeds in giving off a certain feeling. The feeling reeks of purity and calm not usually associated with indie rock. His songs drift effortlessly about in a thoughtful almost conversational kind of way, making you think to the beat of your tapping feet.

“Telegraph” is more band-oriented project featuring Flaming Lips Guitarist Ronald Jones. Having co-written and co-produced much of this album, Jones helped Davies draw out stronger instrumental curves than on previous efforts. Although early comparisons aligned Richard Davies with Brian Wilson, “Telegraph” features a Davies more akin to John Lennon than to anyone else. With his slightly nasal voice and a sincere intonation, Davies is able to create a delicacy that is mixed with an indisputable hipness. I guarantee that this record will make heavy rotation most pop lover’s collection!

I haven’t read John Krakauer’s “Into Thin Air.” Why bother when you’ve already seen “Everest,” and the made for TV version of the same story. However, I always did enjoy reading John Krakauer’s work in Outside magazine. My favorite of his stories included a long article about a 24 year-old boy found starved to death in an abandoned school bus in the Alaskan wilderness. This article soon became “Into the Wild,” Krakauer’s Sherlock Holmesian detective job tracking down the where and how Christopher McCandless spent the last three years of his life.

This book works for a couple different reasons: Krakauer is both a good writer and a good reporter; and he has honed in on a fascinating subject with which you can’t help becoming involved with for a few hundred pages. The premise of this true story is relatively simple: an upper middle class kid named Christopher McCandless graduates with honors from Emory University, gives away his $25,000 savings and disappears from the lives of his family without a note or a phone call. A few years later he is found dead in the Alaskan wilderness, alone and emaciated. Given only a beginning and an end, Krakauer was able to piece together what seems like a seamless recounting of the time that elapsed in between.
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