(Chris Jones’s article appeared in the Chicago Tribune, 9/6.)
Musical biographies are as common in Chicago as family fiddlers on Highway 76 in Branson, Mo., what with the likes of Northlight Theatre and Black Ensemble Theater churning them out here with regularity (BET does almost nothing else), and "Million Dollar Quartet" still packing them in at the Apollo Theater on Lincoln Avenue.
In that cluttered but lucrative landscape of theatrical narratives about musicians rising up, hitting the
rocks, and making plays for redemption, it's easy to overlook Musical biographies are as common in Chicago as family fiddlers on Highway 76 in Branson, Mo., what with the likes of Northlight Theatre and Black Ensemble Theater churning them out here with regularity (BET does almost nothing else), and "Million Dollar Quartet" still packing them in at the Apollo Theater on Lincoln Avenue.
In that cluttered but lucrative landscape of theatrical narratives about musicians rising up, hitting the
rocks, and making plays for redemption, it's easy to overlook "Hank Williams: Lost Highway," the story of the hillbilly musician who seduced millions with the likes of "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" and "Lovesick Blues" — but who loved nothing and no one as much as the bottle and who keeled over dead at age 29 on his way to Canton, Ohio. On the face of it, Randal Myler and Mark Harelik's story (one of many Myler jukebox shows) falls squarely within that familiar, behind-the-music trajectory of a young man plucked from nothing, tearing it up on stage, but ill-prepared for fame and fortune and eventually fighting with his loyal band and agent — and finally breaking the hearts of the very fans who looked to him for a yearning soundtrack to their prosaic lives.
the story of the hillbilly musician who seduced millions with the likes of "I'm So Lonesome I Could
Cry" and "Lovesick Blues" — but who loved nothing and no one as much as the bottle and who keeled over dead at age 29 on his way to Canton, Ohio. On the face of it, Randal Myler and Mark Harelik's story (one of many Myler jukebox shows) falls squarely within that familiar, behind-the-music
trajectory of a young man plucked from nothing, tearing it up on stage, but ill-prepared for fame and fortune and eventually fighting with his loyal band and agent — and finally breaking the hearts of the very fans who looked to him for a yearning soundtrack to their prosaic lives.
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