Not like most of you will need to be told this

. . . but as you value your sanity, stay far, far away from The Times They Are A-Changin', the Twyla Tharp/Bob Dylan abortion. I made the mistake of telling my roommate that though it looked dreadful, if she couldn't find anybody else to go with her, I would take her second free ticket.

Well, FREE IS NOT CHEAP ENOUGH. Free, a bottle of hooch, and a sharp object with which to pick the memories out of your brain: that is the price you should hold out for.

There are three elements to the show: a band, tucked above and away; singers; and dancers.

The band is fine.

The singers are all doing that dreadfully overenunciated, rock/pop-killing chest-voice singing you know from your worst memories of college a cappella groups. (Doot! Doot!) Imagine the a cappella group. Over and over, mangling one song after another. Now recall, if you will, how the most embarrassing moments for everybody in earshot during an a cappella show were those moments when the song calls for some slight trace of anything angry, righteous, or passionate in any way. Think about how you just kinda looked away when some grinning schmuck in a white button-down and black slacks trilled about being on the highway to hell. That's what we're working with here. Oh, how risqué you sound as you crisply blare your way through "Like a Rolling Stone" (a special side-barf to the aged boomers in the audience who clapped along with that horrifically neutered spectacle; hey, people, that's your past being ransacked, stripped, and regurgitated; don't you care?) and "Rainy Day Women." UGH.

The dancers are dressed as circus folk. Because the plot--such as it is; there is no dialogue at all--is about a mean circusmaster, Captain Ahrab, his son Coyote, and the woman who goes from one to the other (eeeeeew), Cleo. One of the dancers was dressed like a dog, but it was hard to tell if he was a clown pretending to be a dog or a real dog, since later on the actors also dressed up like animals. I'm not kidding. Also, the sheep costume? Looked like a giant albino koala. Shoddy. Anyway, the dancers were all quite bendy and I'm very happy for them, but other than that, there's not much to say; even my devil's advocate roommate called the numbers unfocused.

Worst offender is a toss-up:
--The aforementioned "Like a Rolling Stone": a contender because of the total deracination of the song from any emotion
--"Knockin' on Heaven's Door": horribly oversung by the newly cast-out circusmaster. In the dark. As dancers circle him with high-powered flashlights. Like high school.
--"Don't Think Twice, It's All Right": slowed down, over-emoted, and what the hell is with the clown/dog/thing shaking its butt and running up to the woman for a laugh-line at the end? What was the thought process here?
--"Mr. Tambourine Man": in which Coyote descends to the stage on a fracking moon. As nothing happens at all plotwise. This is a low contender only because the original version is not at all dear to me.
--"Lay Lady Lay": hey! let's butcher half of this, then make it into a medley with "I'll Be Your Baby Tonight"! Bring that bottle over here, indeed.

Run away!

Posted by Adair at October 26, 2006 1:10 PM

Posted to Crrrap! | Music | best-of