#62: The Reviews are in!

 The best news happened on Tuesday. We got reviewed. One mentioned us on his Best of the Year roundup. Or as my fake press agent, whose name I keep changing, put it:

"The critics have confirmed that the December 9th concert was something special, with Peter Filichia declaring the ballad 'My New York Life' to be the 'song of the year for this type of venue' and noting that the applause sounded like it came from a crowd far larger than the room could hold. Mark Dundas Wood of BistroAwards agreed, headlining his review 'The Miracle of (More) Life' and praising the show’s unique 'jam session' intimacy, while identifying the surprise introduction of Dr. Bruce Dorsey as the 'evening’s most thrilling moment'."

Peter Filichia mentioned us on his Best of the Year podcast. Best of the year! 

If you're not in the theater, Peter is a noted theater historian and lover, author, and a legendarily opinionated, and much respected voice here in New York City. If he hates something, he will tell you. And if he loves something, he will fight for it. His only criticism, he told me that night, was that I didn't mention Potsie.

Normally, one-night shows by obscure songwriters on a cold Tuesday at 9 PM in a 60 seat theater don't get much attention. I didn't even know they would be there.

So, happy new year!

I was thinking back thirty years ago when I suddenly remembered a woman named Leslie. Something about her office at AIDS Project LA. What was I doing there?

Searching my diary archive, I discovered that on June 1996 I was literally walking the halls of APLA looking for someone who would listen to my songs. It was after the first reading at the Hollywood Roosevelt and before the three week workshop in July at the Zephyr. We had no idea what we were gonna do with this show and these songs.

I remembered being there. But not that I was a man possessed. Am I still a man possessed? Gavin says I'm the most intense person he's met. And he's from South Africa!

So, there was desperate me walking the halls when I came upon an offiice with a big window. A woman with shocking red hair sitting at a desk. Across from her desk in the corner was an upright piano covered in teddy bears and stuffed animals. Over her door? COMPLAINT department.

I knocked on the door, which was open and I guess I said I didn't have a complaint but that I had some songs I was desperate for people to hear, especially people with AIDS. Leslie Glick. A former dancer with a heart as big as the universe. She led to me volunteering there but I never met any bigwigs.

Now I'm standing on a stage with a presentation from the New York City Council and the head of Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS to the chemist whose drug saved my life not long after that lonely walk down the halls of APLA. 30 years ago next July, we were unwrapping the bandages from my arm.

What now? The critics are calling this a 'miracle' and the 'best of the year.' I call it a foundation.

Do I have a plan? I had a plan walking down the halls to Leslie and her piano.

Same plan as always. Stay alive and live in the bonus round.