Video: Steve Sings "Holy Dirt" at Kulak's Woodshed.

So, What About "My Rising Up?"

Friends of mine have pointed out that I've been talking all around "My Rising Up" and not describing how the song went, how I felt as it was being performed during the concert Friday night.

I can tell you in one simple phrase.

I wasn't there.

Oh, I was sitting in my seat. But somehow I went someplace else because if you asked me how they sounded? I have no idea.

What do I remember. Hm. I remember unadulterated glee.

The sensory input was overwhelming. A chorus. A symphony hall. I remember how great the groove sounded and I remember great singing.

Yes! Tempo. I pieced that rehearsal video together from three different takes of the song. They fit on top of one another perfectly.

Do you know how amazing that is?

Kathleen has some inner clock that is metronome sharp but is all human. This, by the way, is a very good thing for rock and roll or Gospel music because when a great drummer finds, settles into and then locks onto the essential groove in a song, it becomes like a little steam cooker. As you listen, your natural tendency is to want something you like to get faster. This builds up a wonderful anticipation in your body because you're actually enjoying it. So, you push harder.

If the drummer or conductor yields to this urge, the effect, as I was taught one night by an itinerant musician hunched over a vodka tonic in an Indianapolis hotel bar after both of us had just played a luncheon engagement for a disinterested corporate party, is to "suck the energy right outta the song."

Because the audience, if they're enjoying the piece, is also feeling this urge, this push. If you give in to it, you and they will feel a little air being let out of the balloon. Just a little, but enough. Held back by that human groove machine. Human because it's about so much more than tempo. It's groove. The human body has inner rhythms that push and pull and you can feel it when you hit the slot and lock into it.

As an audience member, when you feel it push back against you, you suddenly find yourself relaxing into the groove also--and you all become one. For me, a perfect groove is perfect bliss. Every song has at least one great groove in it. But that can also change depending on the sound of the room and the feel of the audience. You just have to feel it.

And this, to me, is Kathleen's gift over and above her technical qualifications: her ability to find the groove, settle in, and take us on a very nice ride.

Friday night, as "My Rising Up" was announced, I was sitting next to (the handsome and witty) librettist Philip Littel. Already in ecstasy over "Safeer al-Sayl," which opened the program, it continued on pointing ahead to new work, including a collaboration by Philip and the incredibly hunkilicious composer David Conte. Called "Love," it was richly romantic, melodic and inspirational with this beautiful climax which combined the orchestra and the chorus, and totally blissed me out.

I had gotten to know them, just barely, during intermission. We had all been seated together and since Jimmy was home, I kind of chased after them like a kid wanting to be with the grown-ups. We stood in a long line waiting for drinks (Diet Coke for Junior here). Again, I was hoping no one would ask me a question or want my opinion about some second act in something.

Thankfully, the talk was lively and fun, and I felt comfortable. Philip won me over when he said after scoring a quick witticism, "I'm that way about everything, darling. I'm French."

By the time we got to the counter, the chimes were going off and the lights were blinking. We slugged back our drinks. Philip: "I think I just got that ice brain freeze. I've never chugged one of these before."

As we were rushing to our seats, David asked me about the cantata, whether I was writing the text. I told him I was, for the most part. He said, "I glanced through your bio. It was very interesting. I'd love to talk more."

(My bio basically consists of finding newer ways to make two off-Broadway shows look like ten.)

But, the lights were going down. No time to talk.

So, I took stock of exactly where I was. I was with these amazing men, seated in special seats. At the guard door (when I checked in at rehearsal earlier this day) I was listed as "honored guest." We were all dressed up and looking very clean.

And I know I had the biggest, shit-eatin' grin on my face. My facial muscles are still sore.

But I was just so happy! I couldn't help it. It wasn't just about "My Rising Up." It was everything. It was being in San Francisco on the hottest day of the year. On the day after the California Supreme Court legalized marriage for same sex couples. It was my friend, Ken McPherson's, birthday. It was 10 years ago on May 13th that it was Steve Schalchlin Day in San Francisco. It was the first peek people would get at the cantata.

But there was also a part of me sitting on a creaky piano bench in the pine-forested back corner of the Big Thicket forest in East Texas, my swampy Tatooine). Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined this night. It wasn't something that was remotely in my consciousness. And yet it was happening and, even more encouragingly, I actually might possibly belong here. My face is in the program, after all.

And it was more than just what was happening in the room. The Last Session is alive again on the east coast with more and more people clamoring for a new run in Manhattan.

That's what was going through my head as the choir lifted the roof off the building.

The gay community, at least here, turned a new chapter, a new birth, this weekend and my songs are now and forever a part of it.

"My Rising Up" closed the show. It was the finale.

A song about rebirth!

In Egypt, the guide told us that everything in their culture was based upon rebirth because the sun died every day and then was reborn every day. The cycle of life is all life, death and rebirth. Every religion and psychological program has a name for this renewal, this chance and ability and opportunity, to become new again.

Hell, Madonna does it constantly.

Some people think the song is about friendship. Some people think the song is about God. Some people think the song is about just keeping an eye on yourself knowing that you yourself are the one person you can't get away from.

To me, it's the acknowledgment that I am not alone. That I live, now, this day, because friends reached out to me when I was at the point of death and reminded me that a part of them would die when I die. And I didn't want to kill off parts of my friends. So I chose life.

The knowledge that we are all so very interconnected on such profound levels. And that, as an artist, I get to search these connections of the heart out.

Yes, it's esoteric! Yes, it's concrete!

It's not just my rising up. It's all of us rising up together.

In music. In song. In laughter. In love.

And that's how I felt. Wouldn't you?

In Memory of Jeff Pierce.

Jim and I had the privilege of meeting Jeff Pierce when we were in Houston earlier this year. Jeff was the longtime husband/spouse to J.D. Doyle, who has, for years, kept up an archive of GLBT performers -- and who has a radio show that is available over the Net. Jeff, an intensely spiritual man, was one of the kindest and most loving persons I've ever met. Unfortunately, he died this August of cancer. I wasn't aware of his passing until J.D. called me this morning to deliver the news and to tell me that he had put a tribute page to Jeff on his site.


Jeff & J.D.

J.D. is one of the nicest persons I know. I send him my most ardent sympathy for his (our) loss. And thank you, J.D., for the personal message you gave me this morning involving "When You Care." I'm honored that the song means so very much to you.

Meanwhile, Rev. Haggard Wants Your Money Again...

In a terrific well-researched story in The Stranger, Seattle's alt-weekly, it seems that anti-gay Rev. Ted Haggard, who used to be Time Magazine's Evangelical Preacher of the Year who talked to George Bush every week (while doing crack and having sex with then hustler Mike Jones) wants you to send him money despite his 3/4 million dollar home and steady pay-off from his former church.

Even better, he wants you to send the money to a "charity" run by a convicted sex offender -- a charity that doesn't seem to exist anymore.

Shall we compare the work of Ted Haggard to Mother Teresa? And yes, by all means, let's keep sending him money.

Steve Gets Quoted!

Both Andrew Sullivan and Joe.My.God. have posted a quote by me from the recent interview in the San Francisco Sentinel regarding the relationship between gay people, church and theatre. Here's the quote:

"Gay people who are raised in a religious environment, a conservative religious environment are basically told, 'You're not good enough / you don't belong here / you need to change / you need to be something else.' And so, in a lot of our lives, we end up leaving the church and hating God or hating Religion or hating the whole nine yards. But an inherently spiritual person doesn’t really lose the core of their being. So it’s going to come out somewhere."

"I think that what we discovered is that it comes out of theater, because theater and church are essentially the same thing. They are story-telling, they are inspirational, and they are true. Theatre brings an even higher truth sometimes. Church basically repeats the same old story over and over again. I often wonder if that’s not one of the reasons so many gay people wind up getting into theater. We’re always told that the reasons are because we're used to hiding and wearing masks and being somebody else. But I think there's something more profound." - Steve Schalchlin, in an extensive interview with the San Francisco Sentinel.

My point was that church people can call us names all they want. They can insist that we are Sons of Satan or profoundly reprobate, but they are wrong. And if they want to throw us out of their "holy" houses, we'll simply go elsewhere, but our essential spiritual cores do not fade and will not be held down.

Theatre is one of the places where we find our power. And, for Jim and me, the most profound spiritual experiences came from a stage, not a pulpit.

SF Preview Number 2

If the crowded sold out house for our second preview is any indication of what's to come during our run here in San Francisco, I think we are headed for a lot of fun in this town. Just like the first preview, the laughs started right at the opening line and got bigger and bigger as we plowed through act one.

But it was in the silences! This theater is acoustically perfect for our show. Even with the air conditioning running, it's perfectly and totally silent. You can't hear any machinery. No whoosh. No humm. I wish more theaters understood how important this kind of thing is. We live in a world full of background noise. Everything around us is whirring and beeping and clicking and roaring. We're so used to having white noise pervading all our spaces.

But being in this theater, when the lights are low and the emotional moments begin to happen, it's almost like being out in the middle of the country where you can hear and feel the silence close in on your ears. How often do you actually experience total quiet and stillness?

Last night, I first detected this magical awareness when we began to go into "Where Is God?" Once again, this song stopped the show. I've been trying to put my finger on why. It comes right after the scene where I'm trying to quit my "Baptist rock and roll band" -- where I shout out of desperation, "I'm an atheist!" Then I cross over, berating myself for being unable to tell them the truth. But it's the follow-up lines that seem to cut like a knife here, when I shout, "I was so angry. Angry that I had been lied to my whole life!"

That's when I first felt it.

The ambient lighting is just enough that I could see row after row of same sex couples, both male and female looking at me, eyes wide in total recognition.

You see, for straight audiences, this is an observable moment. They see a gay guy up there and they're LEARNING our journey of self-discovery -- out of a religion that teaches you to hate what you are into the world of not-knowing, but feeling so liberated that you can finally just scream your truth to the heavens. And whether you go through an "atheist moment" or not, it's the same thing. YOU FEEL YOU'VE BEEN LIED TO YOUR WHOLE LIFE. (Not intentionally, of course. But it's the same thing. It's a LIE that gay and lesbian people need to change who they are in order to be at peace with God. It's a LIE that only heterosexuals are worthy of a spiritual life. All of it. Lie after lie after lie. And you live with it your whole life. And then one day, if you're lucky, if you don't put a bullet in your head, you finally break free and SCREAM at God or the church or the world or yourself or whomever, but it's the moment of true liberation when you finally tell the Reverend Righteouses of the world to go to hell.)

And here, in San Francisco, where gay people go to find refuge from those who think we're some kind of freaks of nature who need to get "fixed," I stood there on that stage and, without warning, seeing those faces full of understanding, I was suddenly filled with RAGE. The same rage I felt the day I stood out on my front lawn, fist raised to heaven screaming, "I DON'T BELIEVE ANYMORE!"

The words came out of me, "ANGRY THAT I HAD BEEN LIED TO MY WHOLE LIFE." And the SILENCE.

The silence.

That palpable, unbelievably powerful silence hung in the air. These people weren't observing a teachable moment. They were living it with me. They had been there. They knew EXACTLY what I was feeling. The funny, silly, comedy that they had been laughing at and hooting over suddenly turned on a dime and now we had raised the stakes. This wasn't just a funny little play about two big queens. This was a show that was dealing with demonstrably heavy subjects, some of which were probably still twisting and turning in the guts of the people watching.

Yeah. Where the hell IS God?

And by the time Jimmy joined in with Marie Cain's awesome lyrics, "If he can send tornadoes and the fatal flood / bury whole cities in a wall of mud / Put a deadly virus in a baby's blood..." the tension was so thick you could cut it with cat's whisker.

The ovation was thunderous. You know, one of the greatest things about having an audience trust you is that when you deliver something they've been thirsty for, they are most appreciative. And the thing about our show is that it's not a political screed. We are not agitprop theatre. This is a personal story. A true story. It's just us telling the truth. If they trust us enough to finally get aboard our craft even knowing that we will be going through some stormy seas, we believe it's our sacred duty to take them through safely. Yes, kids. This is going to be a harrowing ride. But you will be safe in our arms.

During act two, I could hear sobbing all over the audience as Jimmy sang (beautifully, I might add), "You Are A Stranger." And it's fun to sing the words, "Indian summer in San Francisco / I can feel the approaching winter / When the skies will all turn gray / And that's just how they'll stay" here IN San Francisco.

The other moment that really got to me was at the end, just before, "Sower and Scarecrow." They laughed as Jimmy, as the anger-filled homophobic evangelist says...

You know what? I'm not going to write any more here. There are people reading this blog who have not seen the show and I don't want to give away too much. All I can tell you is that, once again, the silence. The utter stillness of the next moment almost killed me. The last line I say just before this song never meant so much.

I don't want to take anything away from the experience of doing the show in New York. It was truly wonderful. But nothing in my experience in life equals what's happening right now on that stage in San Francisco. I wrote the producer, Ed Decker, and just thanked him over and over and over again for this opportunity. This experience.

And the beautiful, stunning silence.

12th Carnival of Pozitivities

This month, the 12th Carnival of Pozitivities is hosted at HIV Health and Community News.

Am I A Hater?

I got interesting reactions from a very concerned and beloved family member who felt that my Jerry Falwell blog entry made me look like a hater. She reminded me that I was raised in the same kind of Baptist church that Falwell preached in, and that I was surrounded by wonderful people who loved me.

I responded by first asking if she actually read the entry. I admitted openly that I was concerned about my feelings toward Falwell. I did not feel that I posted a hateful message. But rather, I was expressing my honest gut feelings so that I could examine them and put them in the light of day. Better, I thought, to tell the truth and admit something I'm not proud of than hide it and pretend otherwise.

I looked around the Net and saw that there were many others who openly despised the man and who felt no guilt whatsoever about feeling that way. Their open scorn and hatred was something they felt he deserved.

Maybe he did deserve that kind of rebuke. Maybe he didn't.

But I deny that my post was a hateful post. I simply told the truth about how *I* was feeling. And said that I was not proud of these feelings. In the Soul Force method of non-violence, hate is a violent act. The question each of us who claim to be guided by the principles of non-violence have to face is how we overcome these very human emotions when confronted by the likes of a Jerry Falwell.

Anyone who reads this blog and thinks that I think I'm some kind of perfect role model isn't reading very carefully. I am the first to admit that I am the least of any of you. I look towards people like John Lennon or Martin Luther King Jr. to find my own role models of behavior. MLK had every reason in the world to hate white people, but he didn't. Instead, he hung in there and he believed in us. He believed that we were better people who were misinformed, and that if he brought us to the table and had a chance to sit with his oppressors, they could find a third position agreeable to everyone.

That's why we marched on Lynchburg. And that's why I try to not judge those who hate me. And that's why I feel my emotions about Falwell are wrong. It serves no one's interest to return hate with more hate.

"Jerry Falwell's God" by Roy Zimmerman

Mike's Table is Back!

Joe.My.God. reports that Mike Jones' massage table is BACK up on eBay, and, of course, some busybody ministry wants it taken down because "it's offensive to Christians." I notice that this time there's no mention of the Project Angel Heart charity, but Mike assures us that the money raised will go to them. (I'm guessing eBay had some technical rule about how charity auctions work which Mike didn't or couldn't fulfill).

No, Rev. Booth, whoever you are, YOU are offensive to Christians. You are offensive to everyone who thinks that by hiding behind your collar, you can suddenly become some paragon of spirituality. But, as Joe put it, you're just another typical "fundie-obsessed with homosexuals" phony baloney "minister."

Go away. The adults are trying to live their lives with integrity.

Lunch With Rhe De Ville

Yesterday, I had lunch with a New York singer/actress named Rhe De Ville. She's incredibly beautiful, deliciously talented, has a terrific sense of humor about the world and herself and, the thing that I love most, has a tender heart. During our emotional, rambling two hour talk, our conversation veered from everything from the state of the world to the state of the music industry to show business, health and marriage.

She came to the show this past Saturday when I offered tickets to her and her very handsome, hunky husband -- the point of which was "SING MY SONGS." She came by way of Amy, who told me about her fantastic video on YouTube, which I will post at the end of this blog. She was also a close friend and sometime caregiver to the late, recently departed Morgan Rice.

She and I share a belief that the only way to survive in this business is to keep true to yourself and what you are at your core, musically. Like me, she has endured the slings and arrows of people who think we're aren't quite hip enough, "current" enough, not enough like all the others out there, etc. And, like me, her reaction to this kind of criticism was to ignore it and turn away from the world, focusing even more on our own qualities and letting the rest of the world catch up.

What I remember about Saturday was that she came up to me afterwards with tears in her eyes telling me how much she loved my voice and my singing. (THANK YOU!) And she wasn't just kissing my ass (since there's absolutely no reason in the world why she would need to do that). We discussed this a bit at our lunch.

She said, "You have a genuine, innocent sweetness that comes across. It's my favorite kind of singing." I told her how my vocal abilities had been slammed by a few reviews who were basically positive about the show, but seemed to be less than impressed by how I sang. She bit into them, "That's because they're looking for that Broadway big voice projectile singing. If they don't get it, they think you can't sing. You're a stylist. I think I could listen to your voice all day long."

I was totally overwhelmed by this reaction. I tried to let her off the hook and tell her that it wasn't really necessary since I wasn't here to push my voice, but my songs. "No, I'm serious. There are so few stylists these days. You sing directly from the heart. All the technique in the world can't match that."

She said she faced some of the same type of criticism. I've heard her sing, so I can't imagine anyone challenging her technique, but one thing is true. She definitely sings from the heart and she definitely has her own style.

One of the things I love most about the video below is that it illustrates the life of a singer in New York trying to survive. She will sing at a benefit where multi-billionaires are in the audience and she has to show up in a beautiful dress, looking like millionaire. And how does she do this? By culling the bins at discount stores, having her gay friends put together a "look," -- queer eye for the gal singer? -- and putting on a show.

We also talked about various weird gigs we've had. She told me of the time she showed up at a bar where the band was OVER the bar. Then someone said, "Where's your microphone?" Who knew she had to bring her own microphone?

We spoke about Morgan. How he knew six months before he died that he had contracted PML but didn't tell anyone. So, he knew he was dying, but said he "didn't want to burden his friends." Many people I've known with AIDS took the same tack, not realizing that they were actually depriving their friends of the chance for their last goodbyes, the privilege of taking care of them, of the time to grieve before it was too late.

I gave her a CD of songs and we promised to get together again soon.

I have to say, as a corollary here that it's incredible to be getting so much respect as a singer and songwriter compared to the emptiness of Los Angeles, where you only get respect if you are on the latest toilet bowl commercial or can construct a "groove" that everyone will love for two weeks.

For me, songwriting is about the melody, the lyrics and the chords. Rhe spoke about that, too. She said the magic words, "A great song can be produced to sound like anything you want. That's the producer's job. Lots of people have that ability. Few people know how to write a well constructed song." Long ago, I gave up even trying to find "grooves" or to keep up with the latest "sounds." Sounds come and go. Songs endure forever. Write a great song and the rest comes easily.

I'm finding myself overwhelmed, increasingly, by the number of singers who are coming up to me asking to sing my songs. And the downloads of the sheet music at The Big Voice site are astonishing. Literally thousands of people have downloaded the songs. That makes me very happy.

Now, here's Rhe's hilarious video:

Authorizing Blessings to Same-Sex Unions

Bishop Andrew D. Smith (Photo by NY Times).
From the NY Times today:

The leader of the Episcopal Diocese of Connecticut, Bishop Andrew D. Smith, has authorized priests to give blessings to same-sex unions during religious ceremonies. The move threatens to further alienate the conservative wing of his church and deepen a fissure between progressive and orthodox Episcopalians nationwide.

“I believe in my heart and soul that it is time for this church, this diocese, formally to acknowledge and support and bless our sisters and brothers who are gay and lesbian, including those who are living in faithful and faith-filled committed partnerships,” Bishop Smith said on Saturday in a speech at a diocesan conference in Hartford.

The decision, reported yesterday by The Hartford Courant, does not authorize Episcopal clergy to officiate at civil unions or create an official prayer service for the blessings. Rather, it permits parishes to acknowledge gay and lesbian couples who have had a civil union granted by the state. Connecticut approved civil unions last year.

The decision allows each parish to choose whether to acknowledge same-sex couples during religious services, said Karin Hamilton, spokeswoman for the diocese.

In other words, the choice is up to each parish to make that decision for themselves.

I bring this up because recently Andrew Sullivan, a Catholic conservative, openly gay blogger who supports gay marriage said that, though he supports legal same-sex marriage, he also had questions about whether it should be allowed as a sacrament within the church. His reasoning was:

"The church's view of marriage is so linked to heterosexuality and procreation that including gay couples within the same sacrament might violate its theological meaning."

Personally, I find this position appalling. First of all because is assumes there is only "one" church, the Catholic Church. (Many Catholics are parochial this way).

I can name a number of churches for whom same-sex blessings are VERY MUCH a sacrament. So, for him to make a blanket statement like this is not only annoying, but totally false. If he wants to continue to devote his worship to a church that rejects him and his partner, that's his business. But to insist that there is only one church who's setting the standard for what's deemed a sacrament is not only insulting to every other denomination, but hubristic.

And secondly, it assumes a heterosexism where heterosexuals are superior spiritual beings to gay and lesbian people. It also assumes that marriages are little more than baby machine factories. Anyone who is spiritually joined with another human being knows there is a lot more to marriage than simply making babies (although the Catholic Church would have you believe otherwise).

As for the Episcopal conservatives who are just falling all over themselves because these so-called "militants" want to include gay and lesbian people in the marriage sacrament, who's really the militant here? The Bishops who are serving their congregations and the people in them, or the outsiders who want to toss these congregations out of the denomination because they feel they have to control the lives of people who don't fall under their spiritual authority?

I love their reasoning: You people are going against what we want so we're going to break apart the Episcopal church and blame it on you.

Sorry, but if you break up your church because you don't like what this Bishop is doing to serve his own people in Connecticut, YOU are the militant.

TAGS: same-sex marriage Andrew Sullivan Episcopal Church NY Times gay lesbian spirituality church