Towards the first-act end of Melissa Etheridge: My Window, the woman whom Island Records founder Chris Blackwell called the “new face of rock ‘n’ roll” in 1988 reprises one of only two songs she didn’t write. It’s “On Broadway,” which was top 40 charted by the Drifters and written by Barry Mann, Cynthia Weil, Mike Stoller and Jerry Leiber. It contains the lyric, “They say that I won’t last too long on Broadway.”
Oh, no? Etheridge gives the impression she includes the hot number because, a fan of Broadway musicals since childhood, she’s ready to disprove the tune’s sentiment. And does she! She’s going to last long there. Not necessarily for the obvious reason(s) but for one that may surprise her longtime and vociferous followers.
When the singer-songwriter – born May 29, 1961 – arrives, she enters a set that Bruce Rodgers has given the look of a glittering concert stage. She’s wearing a rhinestone-encrusted outfit, for which costumer Andrea Lauer supplies various eye-popping jackets.
[Read Melissa Rose Bernardo’s ★★★★☆ review here.]
The immediate impression is that Etheridge is at that Broadway pinnacle to give the audience the Etheridge concert of their life and hers. Which is pretty much expected by those who’ve sworn by her, many for at least the last 35 years. And which she does deliver in her gutsy voice while playing with expert confidence several guitars, one piano (she reports that she taught herself to play the funky instrument), and drums. Undoubtedly, she had to take a while to decide which 15 songs of hers to include as well as “On Broadway” and “Piece of My Heart.” She may be the best Janis Joplin impersonator there is.
As anyone familiar with Etheridge knows, she’s gay. She’s never been quiet about it. Quite the opposite. As a result, she has attracted a large lesbian audience. As expected, those are the crowds she’ll immediately attract – and please for their money’s worth and more. They’ve supported her before, and she gives them every reason to be thrilled again, Broadway or no Broadway.
But, as it happens, and what may come as a surprise for the Etheridge devoted, this appearance is not only the concert it appears at first to be. It’s something more and perhaps something even more to be cherished. This goes for spectators – this reviewer among them – familiar with some of her material but hasn’t been a diehard advocate. What Etheridge offers during the two-and-a-half hours, as grittily and silkily directed by Amy Tinkham, is her life story, co-written with wife Linda Wallem Etheridge.
What is most indelible about the musical autobiography is the absolute honesty with which it’s told. Etheridge gives the impression that she leaves nothing out, no matter how negatively it might reflect on her. She starts by recalling that she was four when she knew she had to be a musician and importuned her parents for a guitar. She discusses those parents – a mother who let her know lesbian friends weren’t welcome in the house and a father who accepted her sexual identity despite his not understanding it.
She’s open about her numerous affairs, whether she was in a relationship or wasn’t. She talks about the sons she shared with one woman from whom she eventually became estranged. She talks about drugs and cancer. She fills in the many places she played while trying to rub two nickels together and the often gumption, often finesse with which she landed gigs. She brings up her Grammys, one of which is displayed by a Roadie (Kate Owens, who never speaks but winningly serves in many other capacities, such as carrying on and off the many guitars used).
Truly, Etheridge seems to get to it all, which a reviewer with limited space can’t. One especially bright memory she mentions is visiting a man of the cloth at a time when she was concerned about choosing a gay life. Assuming he’d advise her to change her ways, she was startled when he said he believed that “God would never create a love that was wrong.” How good of her to pass along that piece of contemporary wisdom.
As Etheridge spins her homegrown Leavenworth, Kansas tale between including adored items like “Meet Me in the Back,” “I Want to Come Over,” “I’m the Only One,” and “Come to my Window,” she showers new illuminating personal light. (Abigail Rosen-Holmes is the actual lighting designer, Olivia Sebesky the busy projections director.) That’s to say, she adds new autobiographical depth to her catalog.
Her songs are revealed to be the equivalent of her talking. She may not be scrupulous about rhyme, which crops up when convenient, but she never ceases to write from who she is. Every thought is true to that. Audience members, most particularly those not foremost among her devotees, are likely to leave with an enhanced respect for her – and gratitude for her lyrics – for instance, a lyric as trenchant and indisputable as this: “There’s no truth in shame.” She got that right.
Melissa Etheridge: My Window opened September 28, 2023, at the Circle in the Square Theatre and runs through November 19. Tickets and information: melissaetheridge.com
