Jonathan Larson Project Review – Composer’s Lost Songs Find a Wonderful New Home | stage

HOh, do you measure a year? Love is one answer, according to Jonathan Larson, but what about songs? The tribute, which premiered off-Broadway last year, reveals the diligence of the composer and lyricist, who died at age 35 in 1996. But it also highlights the extent of his wealth of lesser-known material, written for obscure cabaret, cut from his musicals or unused, spare parts stored in the archives of the Library of Congress. A selection of 18 songs make up a delightfully eclectic revue choreographed by Jennifer Ashley Tepper.

Take, for example, the editorial, Greene Street, written by a 23-year-old newcomer to New York. With propulsive piano, it’s a gorgeous song, in awe of the city as the sun rises on a snowy day. Larson puts a positive, rural twist on this SoHo address (whose name is “No Meaning Money, Darling!”) as the newcomer, also naturally green, receives a wink from a stranger amid the urban anonymity. There’s a hint of a distinct but irresistible note or tone, and the cast of five happily shares it.

That song later got a spin-off with “Rhapsody,” a grueling tour through a rat-infested city where it’s revealed that “life ain’t free.” We’re in Rint Zone, and throughout these lyrics, artistic aspirations collide with harsh realities—as Larsson himself considers them in an introductory archival recording.

Finding cohesion in songs from different projects is difficult without forcing a theme or story as in Marry Me a Little, the relationship play with Pick’n’mix Sondheim. John Simpkins’ production features a design by Nate Bertone that suggests we’re crammed into a Manhattan apartment where pals share drinks and stories over the piano, a bottle of whiskey is poured and the beat is doubled. There is a fire escape ladder and a sheet of paper is used for projections along with a Levi van Warmelo band.

The charm of the ramshackle setting is tempered by the more extreme musical leaps, such as the cheerful rhyming blues of Break Out the Booze (set at the end of Prohibition) to the brooding pop of Out of My Dreams (which could have gotten away with a glossy ’80s romance film), with Imelda Warren-Green and Natalie Kassanga respectively owning the range of each solo song. Warren-Green arrives in dizzying hilarity, armed with an electric hose to clean furniture, in a fever-dream house sketch inspired by the 1939 World’s Fair, with a lighting splash effect by Sam Biondolillo.

Songs from the project’s 2019 album have been rearranged, with Troubled Valentine’s perspective shifting forcefully from third person to first person, with Michael Mather bringing intense physicality to the abuse narrative. Max Harwood is very vulnerable in Falling Apart, while Marcus Collins is a master at telling Iron Mike’s ghost stories, about the Exxon Valdez oil spill. There are a couple of songs that don’t attract attention, and there’s a long, weak satire of polemical rhetoric, but the assortment of misinformation offered by 1990’s “Truth is a Lie” — both goofy and creepy — feels distinctly Trumpian in an evening that mostly reflects the Reagan era of the 1980s (with a diversion into Orwell on the rousing SOS).

When the world is falling apart, playing the piano can “save my soul,” writes the 23-year-old Larson. Not only does he escape such a feeling, but there is a similar effect from hearing the best songs of the night. Revelation.