Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Dear Baby Wants Candy,

[photo via ari_nyc]
Dear Baby Wants Candy,

I know it's kind of wrong for me to love you. You go against every tenet of musical theater writing I have learned in the BMI Workshop. Your rhymes are lame (love/above? Come on, y'all), sometimes they're slant rhymes, and sometimes there are no rhymes at all. And sometimes you are a little too self-aware of yourselves and that you're doing improv.

But you know what, BWC? You are still FUCKING AWESOME. You are all expert improvisers and good-to-mediocre* singers. Every time I see you, I laugh so hard my face hurt and my abs feel like I just did the ab rotation I used to do when I was briefly on the rowing team in the fall of 1999. When I can see a show that starts with a chorus of people on a banana boat and ends with a human-monkey war with the monkey side being led by Richard Pryor (who was in disguise on the banana boat for a number of years), I know that all is right with the world. Also, you have a totally sweet live band.

Never stop, Baby Wants Candy. Keep on musical improv-ing.

With guilty pleasure,

*this is not meant as a slight, only as a statement of fact. In this case, I'd rather watch a good improviser who can't sing very well than a good singer who can't improvise very well.