“Who Killed Rock ‘n’ Roll?” In a musical landscape currently littered with corporate, mindless teen-pop and overproduced hip-hop, this was Rick Springfield’s opening salvo Friday night at Joe’s Bar on Weed Street.  Over a classic, driving power-pop rhythm and cranked power-chords, Springfield spit out lyrics any mourning, long-term lover of rock could relate to: “Rap put the bullet in rock ‘n’ roll’s head/Radio used her and left her for dead”. It was a high-energy opener that would’ve worked just as well in a stadium setting as in the more intimate confines of Joe’s.  Thankfully, the small-scale atmosphere also played to Rick’s strengths as a performer (even if it took the first two numbers for him to find his footing on the tighter stage).

Perhaps it’s the Malibu living, years of groupiedom, or maybe he has a very decrepit portrait hanging in his attic, but at 63 Springfield stands as a testament to the more rejuvenating powers of rock-n-roll. Touring behind his latest (and possibly strongest) album “Songs for the End of the World,” Rick has somehow managed to turn back the hands of time. Onstage, he still looks every bit the rock idol of yesteryear and, if anything, his voice actually sounded stronger on certain songs (the aforementioned opener and the new single “I Hate Myself”). This is a veteran performer who has known his share of highs and lows, but also still values his creativity and his audience.

He is also an underrated songwriter. Beneath the pop-idol image and sunny, sing-a-long choruses lay some dark lyrical observations on fame (“Living in Oz,” “Rock of Life”) and sexual obsession (“Don’t Talk to Strangers”).  Even songs of seduction and young lust, such as “I Get Excited” and “Love is Alright Tonite” have an air of accusation and taunting. And on “Our Ship’s Sinking” (one of two new songs in Friday’s setlist), he sings about his marital struggles. Anyone who’s read his uniquely honest (among celebrities) autobiography knows it hasn’t been an easy ride for Mr. Jessie’s Girl.

Sprinkled among the many pop hits (probably more than one remembers) were some energetic covers such as Wings’ “Jet” and Robert Johnson-via-Cream’s “Crossroads” (complete with impressive guitar work – even more so considering Rick was relegated to two fingers on his temporarily broken fretting hand). There were also several nods to the Beatles with the upbeat “Can’t Buy Me Love” as part of his encore and the classic “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” outro riff making an appearance at the end of “Jessie’s Girl”.

In the end, it was the ‘80s hits people came to hear (a fate he shares with many veteran hit-makers, even those with strong new material) and Rick delivered them with the same youthful enthusiasm he did during his initial, heady burst of fame. For “Human Touch,” Rick not only crowd-surfed, he got deep in the trenches, fully connecting with fans. And in-person, all of the songs had a heavier, driving guitar sound than on record, making the live versions punchier and, dare I add, a bit more “guy-friendly”. For musicians, there was much to admire in the interplay between Rick and his talented band members (standouts being Rodger Carter on drums and George Bernhardt on lead guitar). This was tight, concise, late ‘70s-style power-pop at its finest.   

By the time Rick and company arrived at the final encore of the evening (audience favorite “Kristina”), the nostalgic itch had been scratched, but for those paying closer attention there was every reason to believe in the Rick Springfield of today. He delivered what was expected, but remains creative and attuned to the present. Between writing strong new songs and promoting them in a fun way (his recent New York subway-busking appearance and the four different interactive CD covers), he is doing his part to make album-buying enjoyable again. And for a “sleeping” art form such as rock-n-roll, what more can you expect?    

Setlist:

1. Who Killed Rock ‘n’ Roll?
2. Affair of the Heart
3. Living in Oz
4. Jet (Paul McCartney & Wings cover)
5. I Get Excited
6. Medley: Bop ‘Til You Drop/Celebrate Youth/Calling All Girls/Don’t Walk Away/State of the Heart/What Kind of Fool Am I
7. I’ve Done Everything for You
8. I Hate Myself
9. Our Ship’s Sinking
10. Rock of Life
11. Love is Alright Tonite
12. Crossroads (Cream cover)
13. Don’t Talk to Strangers
14. Love Somebody
15. Human Touch
16. Jessie’s Girl

Encore:

17. Can’t Buy Me Love
18. Kristina

Review by Bruce Colón

www.joesbar.com

www.rickspringfield.com

Who would have ever guessed back in the hairband heyday of the mid-to-late ‘80s that we would still be talking about Poison frontman Bret Michaels in 2012? Though he has been responsible for his share of mindlessly fun party rock (“Unskinny Bop,” “Nothin’ But A Good Time”) and the won’t-die-even-if-you-want-it-to power-ballad “Every Rose Has Its Thorn,” nothing about Poison’s clownish antics and over-the-top image suggested longevity of any kind. And when the inevitable winds of change in pop culture blew northwest in favor of Seattle and all the boys that didn’t get laid in high school, the party looked to be over for Bret and company (as well as for the spandex and hairspray industries).   

What no one could have accounted for was Michaels’ resilience. This is a man who not only survived both the fashion and lifestyle excesses of pop metal (including the requisite rock star Ferrari wreck), but also a back-to-back emergency appendectomy and near-fatal brain hemorrhage in 2010. Along with an admirable work ethic and easygoing, likable charm, Bret is definitely favored by the gods of cheeseball pop culture trends, having experienced a career renaissance as a “Celebreality” phenomenon. His stint on VH1’s Rock of Love and NBC’s The Celebrity Apprentice have given Michaels more mainstream exposure (and cash-in opportunities) than even his initial run of MTV fame.

A consistent road warrior, Michaels is currently on tour with both Poison (opening for Def Leppard on a Rock of Ages tie-in) and his solo band (plugging his upcoming solo album “Get Your Rock On” on the summer festival circuit). This past Saturday, Bret brought his solo tour to Chicago Ridgefest at Freedom Park. And from the opening notes of Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me,” Michaels was in high-energy mode, feeding off the crowd’s enthusiasm and his own love of performing. At 49 years old, Michaels still pulls off the swagger and charisma of his prime while looking more fit and road-ready than performers half his age.

Though the set was short (no doubt truncated to accommodate the festival’s schedule), it was a tight hour of mostly Poison classics, mixed with a few select covers from his upcoming solo disc and the Rock of Love theme song “Go That Far” (which sounded far stronger live). Never the most versatile singer, Bret has nonetheless made the most of his limited range as both a vocalist and songwriter, playing to his strengths (his positive, feel-good energy as a performer) and never over-reaching. And while the colorfulness of C.C. DeVille and company was definitely missed on Saturday night, Bret pulled off every Poison chestnut with aplomb, switching from lead singer mode to 12-string acoustic balladeer and power chord basher with ease. Some of the credit must go to his well-chosen supporting band (standouts being guitarist Pete Evick and drummer Lucky Chucky). From covers of Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama” and Sublime’s “What I Got” to the inevitable lighters-in-the-air moment “Something To Believe In,” (dedicated to our military personnel), it was a night of crowd-pleasing fun – light on substance, but a great way to cap off a clear summer night in Chicago.

Thankfully, there is another side to this season of giving, one that doesn't seem to make FOX News headlines as often, but is pervasive nonetheless. I was very heartened this year, as I was signing on for volunteer work over at the Greater Chicago Food Depository (a non-profit food distribution center dedicated to feeding the hungry), to discover that so many of the shifts for seasonal warehouse duty were filled up well in advance. As with so much of the good work that goes on year-round in the non-profit sector, many people throughout the city (and country) are donating their time, talent, and money to various toy drives, shelters, elderly care, etc... While the mass media continues to pummel us with the worst examples of human behavior on display, many others simply carry on exemplifying the true spirit of the season.

It's not always an easy thing. Many of us are so caught up in our own day-to-day pressures, it can become difficult to recognize, much less care about, the challenges that face the community at large. Particularly in this current climate of fear and diminished hope, it can be very hard to extend a helping hand when, at heart, so many feel powerless about their own life situation. And of course, if you are like me, there is always simple laziness sabotaging even the best of intentions. Yet, as I've gotten ol...um, more life experience under my belt, I've also gained greater faith in people's capacity for compassion and goodwill (obviously, I do not watch much reality TV).

There is no denying the sorrow and pain woven into the tapestry of everyday life. None of us has to search far to witness suffering. But as with our potential for selfish and sometimes evil actions, there is also tremendous potential to alleviate, even if just in some small way, the suffering of others. There is a side to people that wants to do good. Even for those not following through or taking action, there is a yearning to make a difference somehow. There is so much underutilized potential in the world waiting to be tapped into. Everyone has it in them to give something this holiday season, aside from the latest "bling," iPad, or luxury vehicle (will someone please tell me when purchasing cars for spouses entered the realm of reasonable gift expectations?).

Christmastime in Chicago is a perfect opportunity to not only give to those less fortunate, but also to reflect on giving as a state of mind. Something about the dramatic seasonal change and semi-hibernation that takes place, along with the underlying melancholy of the holiday itself (which, for me, further underscores the differences between the haves and have-nots) can impose contemplation even among the most unsuspecting souls. It's a good time of year to be grateful for even the simplest of blessings and to also take notice of those around who could use a helping hand. There are so many great organizations to choose from (within your own neighborhood, through local churches, and even a basic Google search can provide many excellent options). There are opportunities that can accommodate pretty much everyone's schedules (and/or budgets) and in most cases the only requirements are will and heart, which most Chicagoans already have through braving so many ugly winters.

The spirit of giving is contagious and can be fun. Many non-profit organizations have group activities that can be accomplished with friends and family members. And it's not just about giving money or time, but also of your spirit and allowing that goodwill to pervade your consciousness heading into the New Year. Find something inspiring for yourself this season, stay inspired, and share your inspiration and talents with others heading forward. Oftentimes, the only thing providing solace in this world are those tilting the balance by sharing their light with others.

"Each small candle lights a corner of the dark"

-- Roger Waters

Some suggested websites:

www.chicagosfoodbank.org

www.inspirationcorp.org

Sex still sells. Playwright Laura Eason realized this firsthand when, in an admittedly calculated move to get a play produced, she concocted a simple two-character piece with an eye-catching, but slightly deceptive title. First staged in the summer of 2009 as part of Steppenwolf Theatre’s First Look Repertory of New Work, a revised “Sex with Strangers” returns to Chicago to reignite debates about public/private selves and communication in an era now dominated by online social networking.

Don’t let the title fool you: at the risk of generalizing, the play has a strong feminine sensibility that lends depth to a fairly formulaic conceit. In addition to Eason’s astute, yet warm writing, the play is directed by Jessica Thebus (a longtime friend of Eason’s) with an intimate, romantic (not erotic) charge; sexy, but not incendiary. The characters share an almost instant chemistry, though it is one fueled more by a shared love of words and professional envy than the purely visceral dynamic one might expect going in.

Olivia is an almost-40 novelist grappling with a paralyzing sense of failure (her first book was met with commercial and critical indifference). When we first meet her, she is holed up in a remote cabin in snowy Michigan completing a follow-up she has no intention of sharing with the world. Into this sad, yet artistically romantic scenario bursts Ethan, a cocky, self-made 24 year old rolling in the success of his blog-turned-bestselling book and soon-to-be movie “Sex with Strangers,” which chronicles his misogynistic “sexcapades” ala Tucker Max. Olivia is instantly fascinated/repulsed by Ethan’s success and the various ramifications of the blogosphere. In turn, Ethan has read Olivia’s “failed” novel, greatly respects her work, and aspires to a similar artistic depth. Of course, opposites attract. It is a pretty simple premise (almost sitcom-y in another context), but one that is mined for interesting questions regarding different generational views on identity and privacy, cyberspace as a liberating/debilitating frontier, and the role financial success (and the lack of) plays in relationships.

What this play is not about, however, is sex. The title is a commercial hook, not a preview of things to come. Yes, Ethan blogs about sexual conquests and the two characters share a palpable physical chemistry, but “Sex with Strangers” unfolds more like a brainy rom-com than titillating drama. The dialogue is sharp and crisp with both leads trading fun, incisive banter. Ensemble member Sally Murphy infuses what could have been a sad sack character with a nice mix of openness and vulnerability. Her Olivia has the battle scars of experience with the fleeting remnants of youthful idealism. And as Ethan, a returning Stephen Louis Grush (reprising the role from 2009) takes the stage with such roguish charm, you can almost see why Olivia would overlook the more immature, scumbag qualities. You believe in the pairing, despite the age and philosophical differences.

The staging of the two act play is sparse (yet nicely detailed), so most of the production rests on Eason’s writing and the leads. Kudos to Thebus for keeping the pace brisk (each act speeds by). And despite some of the more formulaic trappings of the story - and the by now played out do-it-yourself ending in vogue since “Lost in Translation” - the overall narrative arc is engaging throughout (one suspects a lot of autobiographical projection by Eason in Olivia’s career woes). Breezy enough to entertain, but sharp enough to provoke thought about the age we live in (and the ever-shifting public and private domains), “Sex with Strangers” might one day become yet another model of life imitating art: as with Ethan’s fictitious book-turned-movie, don’t be surprised to find Eason’s play dumbed down to a multiplex vehicle for Jennifer Aniston or Julia Roberts. Just remember you read it here first.

Running through May 15 at Steppenwolf Theatre Company, 1650 N. Halsted Street, Chicago, IL. For more information: 312-335-1650 or www.steppenwolf.org.

While I cannot prove this, I am pretty certain the last thing on Roger Waters’ troubled mind when writing The Wall over 30 years ago was a cast of nubile and acrobatic performers artfully stripping to the strains of “Comfortably Numb.” If so, the whole piece might’ve taken a decidedly less nihilistic tone. Regardless of Waters’ intentions (working through daddy issues, rock star issues, intra-band issues, etc.), it turns out that, among its many virtues, The Wall makes a great soundtrack for the art of burlesque.

Returning for the second year in a row, Hot & Heavy Burlesque’s tribute to Pink Floyd’s bleak opus The Wall is a highly creative interpretation of the 1979 classic. Borrowing elements from the (then) double-LP, live concert, and 1982 film, the show builds its own sensual (and yet still twisted) energy. All the familiar motifs are here: the marching hammers, gas masks, military/neo-Nazi regalia, and Gerald Scarfe-like projections onto the, yes, wall. But there are also plenty of original ideas to match the teasing and titillation throughout.

Even as Roger Waters himself continues to tour with a re-vamped (yet still powerfully relevant) staging of his most classic work, there is still room for alternate, and even fun, productions like this one. While one wouldn’t normally think of burlesque in association with Pink Floyd’s music (unlike, say, that of Mötley Crüe), the two make a better fit than expected. Both rely on theatricality for maximum impact. Burlesque has a far longer, and just as colorful, history as rock and roll. And there are stretches of The Wall that pulsate with a sinister, yet sexy menace: the intro to “Empty Spaces,” the cock rock of “Young Lust,” the stomping rhythm and descending chord progression of “Run Like Hell”. And David Gilmour’s elegiac guitar tone and plaintive vocals are well-matched with some of the more sensitive interpretations in the show (the loneliness behind the performer’s mask for “Hey You”).

Largely the brainchild of “Horror and Metal Burlesque Performer” Viva La Muerte, Hot & Heavy Burlesque delivers a tasteful, creative, and fun experience. While there is ample nudity throughout, the production sticks to more of an old-school burlesque aesthetic (the art of the tease instead of blunt exhibitionism). And the cast for this year’s production is diverse in appearance (not your typically uniform, ultra hard-bodied Vegas types). With names such as Rosie Cheeks, Holly Wouldn’t, Donna Touch, and the acrobatic group Nuts ‘n’ Cherries, you’d be well-advised to check any seriousness at the door. The group manages to infuse playfulness and tongue-in-cheek humor to “The Happiest Days of our Lives”/”Another Brick in the Wall Part 2” and “Empty Spaces”/”Young Lust” (the ‘80s “sexercise” trio had the look and attitude spot-on). That said (and without revealing too much), there were also quietly affecting moments in “The Thin Ice,” “Don’t Leave Me Now,” “Nobody Home” and many others.

If you are looking for a different spin on Floyd or a highly imaginative burlesque production with an awesome soundtrack, then make the time for the 2nd run of Hot & Heavy Burlesque’s tribute to The Wall. Just make sure to leave the kids with a sitter.

Currently playing Fridays and Saturdays through January 22^nd at the Viaduct Theatre, 3111 N. Western Avenue, Chicago, IL. For more information, go to vivalamuerte.us or viaducttheatre.com.

The trappings of the “American Dream” and suburban life have been explored in every artistic medium for decades. But what do the age-old questions about the hunger for upward mobility and its attendant isolationism mean when asked during our current economic and socio-political conditions? Kicking off the 2010-2011 season for the Steppenwolf Theatre Company, Detroit, written by Lisa D’Amour and directed with purposeful ambiguity by ensemble member Austin Pendleton, manages to stimulate new questions about suburban decay with a suitably comic touch.

While the setting of Detroit is more a metaphorical than literal device in the play, it sets the tone of things falling apart: American cities, homes (“first-ring” suburban houses built in the ‘60s), ideals, marriages, individuals… All we once thought we knew and wanted for ourselves as Americans quickly turning on itself. No more safe havens, particularly from our own humanity. These are heady, eternal issues, but one of the triumphs of Detroit is the deceptively light presentation of this material.

The outward plot of Detroit is paper-thin: a “settled” suburban couple named Ben and Mary (played pitch-perfect by Ian Barford and Laurie Metcalf of Roseanne fame) throw a barbeque to welcome their new neighbors Kenny (a hilarious Kevin Anderson) and Sharon (a fiery Kate Arrington, coming off a star turn in A Parallelogram) who have moved into the empty house next door. What starts out with the usual forced and highly-socialized pleasantries soon unravels as back-stories and secrets are revealed and as the two couples begin to exert an indeterminate influence on each other.

The choice of playing an older and younger couple “against” one another is inspired: the older couple shaken out of their torpor and loneliness as the younger couple is provided with a window into their own potential future. And there is ample, though cleverly underplayed subtext sprinkled throughout the play: the dream of suburbia a parallel for the dream of America, both built on ideals that soon inverted; private vs. public selves; fear of the “other”; the suppression of our primal (and hedonistic) selves. As with most stories dealing with the dark underbelly of suburban life, sexual frustration (and its reckless release) is never too far below the surface (though again, in Detroit it is but one of many threads woven into the story more for provocation than resolution). Even a late turn by longtime ensemble member Robert Breuler, which on the surface seems designed to provide some closure, only manages to raise more questions.

As with so many of Steppenwolf’s productions, Detroit is supremely engaging and provocative. The set design by Kevin Depinet is superb, the writing and direction artful, and the ensemble cast thoroughly likeable and winning throughout. By the time Detroit reaches its pointedly post-9/11 (and post-apocalyptic?) conclusion with Ben and Mary facing either re-birth or ruin, you will have laughed in empathy and recognition of self and be left with many questions about the uncertain future awaiting us all.

Above photo:(counterclockwise from upper left) - Ensemble members Kate Arrington, Ian Barford, Kevin Anderson and Laurie Metcalf in Steppenwolf Theatre Company's production of Detroit by Lisa D'Amour (playing through November 7th), directed by ensemble member Austin Pendleton. Photo by Michael Brosilow.