That’s a ‘Why the Fuck’, Not a ‘What the Fuck’
For those of you who don’t know, which I’m going to take a stab and say is the majority of you, Mandy Barnett is a singer who had a country record deal back in the mid to late nineties. She had a few good albums, some amazing singles, and sounds like Patsy Cline. Not in the way that people say that Leann Rimes sounds like Patsy Cline. Mandy Barnett is Patsy Cline reincarnated. I’m convinced of it and I will entertain no alternative possibilities.
Back in the day, when we weren’t defending ourselves from the good little Baptists who were trying to harass us out of their college, Shawna and I used to go to this great little place called Caffe Milano to see Mandy. As a music venue, it was awesome. Unfortunately, they had a $12 per person minimum and as a restaurant… um… it was a great music venue. Anyway, I saw some of the finest performances I have ever seen at Caffe Milano. Mandy was brilliant every time, even the one time that she performed her entire set drunk in a milkmaid’s dress. No lie.
So, before the days of Caffe Milano, a genius tapped Mandy Barnett to portray Patsy Cline in the musical Always, Patsy Cline. It opened while Shawna was in high school. Unable to find anyone else to go with her, she saw it the first time alone. Everyone together now. Awwww. Poor Shawna. Don’t worry. She just hadn’t met me yet. I was the other high school student of the 90s who owned Patsy Cline albums. I even wrote a paper about the Ryman Auditorium and Patsy Cline’s ghost in a creative writing class
Last month, Always, Patsy Cline reopened at the Ryman, with Mandy once again playing Patsy and Tere Myers, the same actress who played Louise in the original production, again taking on the role of Patsy’s friend. Shawna was like, “We must go. I know that you’ve heard Mandy sing Patsy Cline songs before, but this time she will sing you into a coma.” Okay, so maybe I tweaked her dialogue just a little, but the point of the story is accurate.
They gave it their best effort with that stupid unnecessary disco ball (Why with all the blinky lights, people? Can’t you express emotion with nice stagnant colors?), but there was no coma had. I did spend half of the first act biting my lip trying not to cry. When Mandy went a cappella in the second act, I gave up the sandbaggin’ and just let it happen. With great fortitude, you can fight Mandy Barnett singing Patsy Cline. You cannot, however, fight Mandy Barnett singing Patsy Cline a cappella. It’s like trying to beat the Chinese at a Math-a-thon.
‘tis truly a shame that this particular production of Always, Patsy Cline with Mandy and Tere has not toured the country. Tere Myers gave one of the most genuinely hysterical performances I’ve seen in a while, and, as Shawna so eloquently put it, only two people have walked this Earth who could sing like Patsy Cline. And one of those people was Patsy Cline.
No need to exaggerate. Mandy Barnett singing Patsy Cline is like two souls inhabiting one body. Mandy Barnett singing Patsy Cline on a set decorated like the Grand Ole Opry is uncanny. Mandy Barnett singing Patsy Cline onstage at the Ryman is damn-near a spiritual experience.
Every once in a while I would glance over to the wings, really expecting to see Patsy standing there, beaming with satisfaction, paying all due respect to the woman who the fates saw it appropriate to pass her voice onto.
Now, for those of you who don’t like Patsy Cline… off my blog, Commies!
Er, sorry. Tourettes.
There is a very good reason for you Patsy Cline haters to appreciate Always, Patsy Cline. It was maybe halfway into act one that I realized a reason, besides the incredible performances, why Shawna may have been so moved by this production, though she may not have realized it at the time. As the lights rose for intermission, Shawna turned to me and was like, “I can’t believe how much subtext there is in this.” And I was like, “Heh. I was thinking that. No wonder you liked it so much.” And then she was like, “I’m trying to remember if it was this gay the first time I saw it.” I giggled. We had glee. Okay, so maybe just a gleeful moment. But I’ll take my glee wherever I can get it these days.
That’s right. Always, Patsy Cline is just brimming with subtext. And it’s not the least bit discreet. It was so unsubtle, in fact, it was damn near supertext. Of course, I’m certain no one around us saw anything at all Sapphic. But when one woman sings “True Love” and “Faded Love” to and/or about another woman, that is like subtext with a soundtrack.
At performance end, we waited to tell Mandy and Tere how completely F-ing exceptional they were. It’s rare to see a performance that makes it worth waiting in line just to praise. I had my little script prepared inside my head. Went to school here, saw you at Caffe Milano, Patsy Cline must be worshipping you from afar and wondering if she somehow spawned a child she didn’t know about twelve years after her death, et cetera and so forth. Then, as we closed in, I suddenly got nervous, for one reason and one reason only. Not only is Mandy Barnett still hot, she’s actually gotten hotter.
Hour-glass figure. Long curly black mane. Openly bisexual.
Yes, I’ll take one. Thank you.
In Always, Patsy Cline, Mandy’s talent is being utilized to its fullest extent, but fuck-diddly, she should really be a household name. If she had been born to the right era, she would be a household name. If some smart casting director on Broadway is reading this, I highly suggest you find Mandy work in something where she can sing her little Patsy Clinesque heart out and you will do your part in creating another legend.
