"It All Turns on Affection"

I will say, from my own belief and experience, that imagination thrives on contact, on tangible connection. For humans to have a responsible relationship to the world, they must imagine their places in it. To have a place, to live and belong in a place, to live from a place without destroying it, we must imagine it. By imagination we see it illuminated by its own unique character and by our love for it. By imagination we recognize with sympathy the fellow members, human and nonhuman, with whom we share our place. By that local experience we see the need to grant a sort of preemptive sympathy to all the fellow members, the neighbors, with whom we share the world. As imagination enables sympathy, sympathy enables affection. And it is in affection that we find the possibility of a neighborly, kind, and conserving economy.

-Wendell Berry from “It All Turns on Affection”, 2012 Jefferson Lecture

A Father's Day Email

The Miracle Worker

Three years ago, I received an email from one of my oldest, dearest friends, David Fetzer. It moved me so much, it inspired a spout of memories that I wrote about here.

This is what it said:

"Three things I miss about your Papa:

1. Hearing him shout "Fetzer!" either from across a room, or hallway, or on the other end of the phone, in the background.

2. His talent for singing ever-so-subtly off-key.

3. His crazy infectious perma-smile, especially in the context of watching his daughter when she performed on stage. Which I did get to witness.

Thinking of you both today.  =) "

Emails like this always arrive out of the blue from Fetzer-- just one of those guys. He'd show up magically in your inbox, and every so often on your doorstep in Detroit, Glasgow, London, or at the stage door in Los Angeles, beaming with pride.

I've written about Fetzer a few times on this blog-- remember the adorable Salt Laker who sat next to me in Junior year directing class at Interlochen? The curly-haired one with open, knowing eyes, jaunty hats, and hands that fit so perfectly in my own, when we held them they made a suction noise? I gave him a mold of my hand when we parted ways at the end of school, and after reading the post linked above he sent me this photograph to show that the hand still sat upon his desk.

He gave some rousing performances at Interlochen-- some were in scene-work the world never got to see (a stunning Prince Hal soliloquy, and Oswald in Ghosts). Then there was the time he staged a particularly naughty experiment with his Senior Directed One Act of Lord Byron's Love Letter, in which he rehearsed his actors in a fully staged version of the show for his professor, only to wheel out a movie projector and play a silent FILM version of the play that his cast narrated out loud below the screen, to everyone's complete astonishment (and, to the professor, horror).
Then of course, some of his brilliance was worked in the main-stage shows-- a tortured and annihilating James Keller in The Miracle Worker, where, in one performance when everything at the end of Act 1 went terribly wrong when the door Annie Sullivan was supposed to be locked in "miraculously" opened, he saved the day with his signature wit asking to the  "What'd she do--JUMP?" to rapturous applause. Not to mention the silent Waiter in She Loves Me--(in fact, I'm having a lot of fond memories of both my Dad and Fetzer this week as I rehearse for She Loves Me at Caramoor.)

He played guitar left handed.
He drew beautiful cartoons.
He smiled with a sweet little smirk.
He wrote gorgeous, handwritten letters and sent them in the actual mail.
He had a wonderful band with his best friend (called Mushman).
He created a theatre company in Salt Lake City to provide culture to the town that was his home.
He believed in and supported his friends.

He also gave me one of the very best Father's Day memories in recent history.
I am grateful to him.
I have thought of him every year on the occasion since he sent that message. 

I think, as the above memory insinuates, that David Fetzer was always sort of Dad's favorite. They shared a sort of quiet innocent, "watching" quality--both very young souls I think, despite all their intellect and wisdom, they shared a sense of wonder about being here: Alive and in The World, that is. They went for walks and didn't do a lot of talking. They "got" each other. And I recall how Fetzer dropped absolutely everything to make his way to Detroit for Dad's funeral. Something about his presence there was the tipping point of difference for a lot of us.


David turned 30 on December 17th last year...
     a few days later, he was gone.
Too soon.
Far too soon for anyone, but beyond comprehension for a star so bright.
I am fortunate to have know him and called him a friend.
Anyone that knew him I am certain feels the same. 

I hope that in whatever lies beyond, he could hear Dad shout "Fetzer!"from 'across a room, or hallway' as he entered, and I like to think of them taking nice walks out there, without saying a lot, just as they always did.

See you in the stars, David. 

And thank you.

The Cello Sang

The cello sang from the corner.

Dmitri’s hands had been aching to play whilst waiting several weeks for his fingers to heal after the long winter had ravaged them.  Now, in the flushes of Siberian spring the men sat idly about Shura and Mikhail’s open front room within the Volosnikov house as they were want to do most Sundays. Grigory Boleslav smoking in one corner, Anatoly and Yevgeny playing cards in another. Andrey Tenderov lay prostrate, legs sprawled blithely in the center of the room thumbing through a pile of novels and pamphlets, thoughtlessly adding his own  melodies to Dmitri’s concert.

    “Oh Mitya do play the Bach Suites—number 3, the Sarabande, please, it is my very favorite. Oh, say you will.”
    “Yevgeny,” sighed Dmitri Petrov, “I cannot do the 3rd, my thumb is still healing.”
    “The second then. Even just the Prelude. Come! No one does mournful cello better!”
    “Yevgeny, I am almost as weary of the Bach as I am of you. Now be still, stop nagging, and don’t let Anatoly beat you with a pair of fives yet again.” Anatoly smiled broadly at this—he loved to win.
    “I wouldn’t know a Prelude or an Allemande if it jumped up and bit my arse but I like the sound of Sarabande—is she spoken for?” joked Tenderov not even looking up from his books still sprawled upon the ground, his hair gleaming even in the ambient light. The men chuckled approval. Yevgeny was unfazed.
    “Please…” he pleaded, head inclined, eyes batting, smiling with his signature endearing influence.
There was a very deep sigh from the corner.
    “Oh very well,” he grumbled, agreeing only to silence his nagging, though the sincere light in Yevgeny’s face was, admittedly, charming, “but the Second—and only the first movement.” They cheered at the predictable delights of the mismatched bunk-mates.


There was a lull in the air in anticipation. And then at last Dmitri began to play.

There are times when we witness a creature being essentially itself—it happens when we watch beavers build their dams, when birds launch into the heights of the open skies, or as mothers feed their young. In this we witness a kind of glory, not with our senses but with something else entirely: the essential parts in us respond to it, our nerves tremble, and we are ignited with a kind of knowing.

So it was when Dmitri Petrov played his cello.

There was no visible shift in the men. They soaked in long strains and mournful chords as they continued to sit and read and stew and smoke. But the shift was there; real and present, the Cellist crying out to the essential with these inessential men.

Sometimes, you just need more of The Good Stuff...

...what do you need more of?

The Styles of Nikka

I mean: please.

My friend Nikka Lanzarone has been featured a few times here at London Still (all things Hello Again, the Playbill feature I wrote last Spring BoCo-mance as well as kvelling over my new NYC gal-pals) ...But she is also a stylist, and she is the real deal. So naturally I have to add my two cents. 

LOOK: you know that girl whose mom was "'smokin' hot in her hayday" (and, frankly, still is) and thus cleans up great for a party because she is wearing all her mother's hand-me-downs?

That same girl who can't get her act together to look like anything more than a clueless tree-hugging 7th grader in her everyday life?
Well. That's me. 

Or that WAS me, until Nikka Lanzarone told me that color was my friend.
And that it wasn't okay to wear a headscarf every day.
And jeans four sizes too large stolen from a donation box were just not going to cut it after junior year of undergraduate school.
That I could love my shape.
That looking great was not just for dancers and models and people who liked fashion.
That looking great was for everyone.
     Was for me.
That I could be that girl: The girl who can absolutely wear structured pieces and jeans that fit and vintage picks and look fabulous all the time.
     ...Not just at a party in her mom's clothes. 

Thanks Nikka. 

I thank you, and so does the world who has to look at me.

Nikka is one of my favo(u)rite pals.
But she should also be your stylist.
She is more than a rockin' bod, signature wHit and able to put her leg above her head.

Check her out. 

People I Went to PROM with: A List

"HAVE A GOOD TIME!"

'Tis the season to get your PROM on. So, in honor of the annual Promenade, here is a comprehensive list of Alexandra Silber's Prom Dates in Chronological order.

1. Bill Bradley
He was Mr. Webb and I was Mrs. Webb. He was John Jasper and I was Rosa Bud. He was a Senior and I was a Freshman. It was the scene of the "my-Dad-put-on-a-tux-and-jumped-out-of-the-bushes" crime.
It was super awkward and I was the only Freshman there.
But we got Slurpees afterward and that is what matters.


2. JP Zammit
I don't think I will ever know what JP Zammit was thinking when he asked me to Prom my Sophomore year--I barely knew him, truth be told. His mom sometimes came into the Greek diner I worked in, and he kind-of-sort-of lived around the block, but there must have been something about his  portrayal of Lazar Wolfe the Butcher, combined with the fact that he was in super rad band (and still is), combined with the fact that he was nerdy-cool-but-cooler-than-me. We never really talked before or after that night, and our Prom "date" was short, utilitarian and pretty business like: he showed up, we took some pictures, we ate, we danced, we went home. Scene.

But you know? I remember how he came to my house a few weeks after Dad died, and despite my pajama-ed, grief-stricken state, we had a gentle, meaningful talk. I remember the way he sat on the end of the bed with his hands in his pockets aching to know what to say. The truth was I didn't know what to say either. But ultimately it was his mere presence at the end of that bed that meant the most. Because people forget--they forget to come over and just sit at the end of your bed a few weeks later.  I doubt he even remembers so brief and uneventful an encounter, but it meant a lot to me at the time. It still does. All of which revealed to me that JP Zammit was, and is, a super great guy.


3. Nick D’Emilio
Now this is pretty weird. When I was 14-15 I was having a rough time. 1997-98 are sorrrrrt of a bluuuuur. I was having trouble with "girls" at school, my Dad was very ill, and the summer of 1998 at Camp was when I made some of my closest, most enduring, lifetime friends. It was the summer of The Alexandra Sisters and hurricane of charisma that is Oliver Friendly (who ended up marrying one of us). So, when a huge gang of us decided to gather in Washington DC at Oliver's House for New Year's Eve, my parents didn't bat an eyelid-- they let me go have a really special, utterly memorable New Year with what I knew would be a group of lifelong pals. It was magical. Then there was a blizzard that kept me in DC a few extra days and I got to meet a few more of Oliver's DC friends-- one of whom was Nick D'Emilio-- budding photographer.

I dunno. It was in the early days of AOL chatting-- IMing was like some sort of miracle-- WOOOOOW you could talk to multiple people at once from anywhere in the country just by typing. Remember that? I kept in touch with Nick and one night online, he asked me to go to Prom. In DC. And the crazy thing was? My parents let me go do that too. It was on a boat. I barely remember it, but I do remember sneaking into The National Zoo and kissing him in the Rainforest Room before seeing The Phantom Menace.
I never saw him again.
Good times.


4. Jeremey Catterton
Ahhhhh my first love. Jeremey may have irritatingly spelled his name with three Es, but, man: I LOVED HIM SO HARD. He was rebellious and dangerous, über-damaged and preeeeeetty arrogant (in truth, actually just a sweet, rejected, floundering youth trying to find his way); and though he was irrational, totally strange, sometimes selfish, oh how I loved him as only a sixteen-year-old could!

Sure! He dyed his hair constantly (my favorite being “Number 44B for African American Women”). Sure! He had a piercing in both ears (and eventually in his nipples). Sure! He was more than a little manorexic, and okay, he waxed on and on (and on) about how everyone on planet earth besides him was a philistine.

But he also held me like a cross between a boy, a man, and a desperate teenager, all of which he was. He wrote beautiful love letters, and poetry, and the best book inscriptions you have ever seen all in his glorious left-handed scrawl, and hell, it all came from a pain I think he may, at least at that time, had only ever shared with me.

All that said, my parents were still, understandably horrified.

To hell with matching boutonnieres-- this was MORP, Interlochen's version of Prom (it is "Prom" spelled backwards you see, and "Stag, Fag, or Drag: YOU GO") and this time my date matched his nail polish to my dress.

It was the most romantic dance I ever attended.


5. Michael Arden

O...MG. Babies.

Before Michael Arden was Michael Arden, he was Jerrod Moore and I went to spend "Spring Break 2000" with him in his hometown of Midland, Texas. We drove around. A lot. We sang. We went to the airfield. We stayed up late. We ate all. the. time.
And we went to Prom.
AT MIDLAND HIGH SCHOOL.
There were cowboy hats.
We did not fit in.


6. Michael Arden
Eager to not be outdone by our turn at Midland High, High School besties must go to MORP together and we did. We went in a big group of Theatre heavy-hitters and had an amazing night.
There was a giant yellow school bus.
And gowns made out of duct tape.
And epic dancing.
And bowling.

All of this is to say: six Proms in four years of High School is some serious result.

She Loves Me Conversations

Fun little interview with Ted Sperling and Paul Rosenblum of Caramoor Music Festival about the upcoming 50th Anniversary concert production of She Loves Me with an unbelievable cast.

Georg - Santino Fontana
Amalia - Alexandra Silber
Ilona - Montego Glover
Kodaly - Ryan Silverman
Mr. Maraczek - John Cullum
Arpad - Etai Benshlomo
Sipos - Brad Oscar

See you June 22-23!

I practiced (reflections on a Carnegie Hall debut)

©Julia Murney

We all know the joke.
Okay... well most of us know the joke.

"How do you get to Carnegie Hall?"
The answer is not the corner of 57th  Street. It's
"Practice, Practice, Practice."

There really aren't words to describe the feeling of stepping out onto the stage at Carnegie Hall for the first time.
But, perhaps oddly, one of the words that crossed my mind as I stepped out on to the boards was "YES..."
Yes-- I thought, I am humbled, I am honored, but I... "practiced."
Let's do this.
I am ready.

It was a privilege of extraordinary proportion to make this debut alongside not only members of the Broadway community I admire so profoundly (Judy Kaye--who has always been a trail-blazing role model, not to mention the golden-throated, utterly dashing Jason Danieley, the legendary Anita Gillette, and Jim flippin' Dale).

But of special import was the joy of playing opposite one of my very oldest and most loyal pals Santino Fontana (who, the morning of the show was nominated for his first Tony award--wow). Santino and I met at summer camp in 1999--two teenagers, one anothers' first scene partners. We reunited at the NFAA A.R.T.S competition the next year. I even soooooort ooooof followed him to college (in the days when I went to the University of Minnesota... for 8 weeks... --some of you don't know that story, but believe me I was there, before 2001 "happened...").
All of which is to say: we have been there for the highest highs and the lowest of lows
     (and there sure have been both...)
Santino might not always wanna snuggle about it exactly, but he is the loyalest pal on earth.
Not to mention a talent beyond belief.
We used to chat online during his matinée of Billy Elliot and my evening performance of Carousel and dream big dreams... that made the entire experience extra special...

...
Work hard, readers.
Work harder than you think is necessary.
Find a goal and move toward it with "courage and integrity" (as you know I love to say).
Don't be negative.
Don't be a jerk.
 Believe in dreams.
...and, of course, practice.

Believe me-- it is worth it.

Song of Norway - Rehearsal

Behind the scenes of the rehearsal process for Song of Norway!

Music written for a MOSQUITO.
Invisible Trolls.
    ...and their cakes.
Hey old friends.
Broadway legends...

Over and out.

Song of Norway

On April 30, 2013, old Interlochen Arts Camp pal and I Santino Fontana make our Carnegie Hall debuts opposite one another in a concert presentation of the great 1944 operetta Song of Norway. The cast also features Jason Daniely, Judy Kaye, Marni Nixon, Walter Charles, and The Collegiate Chorale.
Enjoy the video below, and see you on April 30!

from Broadway.com: "Falling Crazy in Love with Angela Lansbury, Shameful Pop Songs & Her Literary 54 Below Show "

"...Broadway newcomer Alexandra Silber (Master Class) will take fans on a musical celebration of all things bookish in her new 54 Below show Ex Libris: A Trip to the Library. The self-confessed bookworm draws from some of her favorite prose and celebrates the many forms of the written word during her "book-stravaganza" on April 3. Before she takes the stage, Silber spills about her shameless love of pop music and her obsession with Angela Lansbury."

 Enjoy!

* * *

What record/album was your favorite growing up?
Without a doubt Judy Collins' Wildflowers. It literally orchestrated my life. Completely by coincidence I ended up going to high school with her niece, and I melted when I got to thank her for her music at our graduation.

What concert most influenced you as a performer?
When I was little, I went to Interlochen Arts Camp, and they always had an amazing festival of performers each summer. I'll never forget how Rosemary Clooney just sat there and sang from her guts with epic class.

What is your go-to audition song?
"Will He Like Me?" from She Loves Me. Amalia Balash is my spirit animal.

What song are you most excited to perform in your show?
"Yakko's World" from The Animaniacs. Yeah...you heard me.

What musical theater track is the most played on your iPod?
"Run, Freedom, Run!" [from Urinetown]. Hands down eclipses all other musical theater tracks by a number in the 100s (and actually the only consistent one on my iPod...) It is perfect. "Literally? YES."

If you could invite any performer onstage for a duet at 54 Below, who would it be?
It is no secret to anyone who knows, follows, or lives within a five block radius of me that Angela Lansbury is my idol. She is probably the only person on earth I would not be able to compose myself in front of if I met her in person. Her contribution to the entertainment industry inspires me every day, and I have loved her from the moment my dad brought home Til the Clouds Roll By and The Court Jester, to Bedknobs and Broomsticks, to a full-on obsession with Murder, She Wrote to ALL of her endemic, pivotal musical theater performances. I respect her. I aspire to be like her. I love her. No: I crazy love her. It would be Angela and I wouldn't sing because I would be beside myself. So SHE would sing "It's Today" and I would just gaze at her.

What musical theater performer from the past do you wish you could collaborate with?
Danny Kaye. Gordon MacRae. Bea Arthur.

What album was the soundtrack to your 20s?
40 Days by The Wailin' Jennys. (I have a closet Bluegrass person inside me.)

What’s your favorite love song?
I can't choose. Somewhere between "Dammi i colori... Recondita armonia" from Tosca, "I Can't Help Falling in Love With You," and "One Hand One Heart."

What song makes you feel sexy?
Adele's "Someone Like You." Magic stuff.

What is your favorite workout track?
I have a playlist on my iPod created for workouts called "Pop music you should be ashamed of but are not," and THAT is all I am going to say about that.

What's the best hidden gem on your iPod?
The great Zoë Keating.

Favorite break-up song?
"So What" by P!nk. Hits. The. Spot. Believe you me. Plus "Jolene" and of course, "Send in the Clowns." ::Sigh...::

What song most makes you smile?
Have you ever heard "Boum" sung by Charles Trenet? It is a charming French song from 1938 with irreverent lyrics about falling in love in the springtime and features a lot of onomatopoeic animal sounds. It's a hoot. Also, Gogol Bordello's "Start Wearing Purple" and "Jump in the Line" by Harry Belafonte.