The Carrying On of A Wayward Son

As any friend who has had the misfortunate of going to a karaoke bar with me can attest, I am not a good singer. I would even go as far as to compare my vocal styling to the death rattle of a hoarse moose (or even a moose horse).

My biggest brush with life as a musical was during my staring role as "Just A. Bill" in "Schoolhouse Rock: The Musical."

I do love to singa, though.

Today, as I drove home from an evening meeting, I found myself blessed with the good fortune of having my iPod’s shuffle playlist bring up three highly singable songs in a row. One after the other, the songs kept coming and I kept singing along with the gusto normally reserved for coital encounters.

I’ve often thought to myself that life would be so much more manageable if it were a musical. In musicals, you always know exactly what everybody is thinking – because they’ve always just prepared a perfectly choreographed ballad about their inner most feelings. In songs, you never doubt intentions or claims. Everything is heightened in its earnestness. It’s one thing to say, “I love you.” It’s another to sing it.

In musicals, everybody can sing like an American idle and dance like they’re with the stars. Breaking out into song isn’t just for the happy occasions either.

Think about the last big break-up you had and tell me that music did not play a part in the healing process. I can personally fill a 2 GB flashdrive with the songs that served as an emotional crutch in high school. Music is the perfect backdrop to anything in life – even my car crashes this summer would have been awesome if Hans Zimmer had provided accompanying score.

As you may have guessed by my gushing fantasies of life lived on a Broadway stage, I’m probably one of the biggest straight man-fan of musicals you’re likely to find — with clarification.

As much as I’ve tried, I can’t really get behind those, for lack of a better description, fruity shows like “Cats” or “Phantom of the Opera” that appeal so much to northwestern middle-aged women. I do have an eclectic taste in music, though, and that extends to my appreciation towards musicals. Heck, I’m petrified of watching “High School Musical” because of the fact that I may actually like it.

When all is said and done, I prefer my musicals to have the same type of sound that I’d listen to on my iPod. Pop in some pop, roll in the rock and don’t gimp on the guitar — the musicals I like have to have some bite to them.

I’ve often thought about writing my own musical. The problem I am always faced with, though, is my complete lack of understanding when it comes to the world of music. I am a huge fan of music but heck if I don’t know how it’s made. Due to not having been in band or orchestra, I can listen to a song and be unable to even begin to break it down into its ingredients. To me, making music is as mysterious and magical a process as the inner workings of the Wonka candy factory. I’ll never hope to understand it and can only continue to appreciate what others have done for me.

That said, you could see why the thought of creating a musical is so daunting. I really need to find a partner who could help me with the music – somebody who could hold my hand while I stumble through the songwriting and hazard the halls of harmony.

What would my musical be about? That unfortunately is going to have to remain a secret for now. I’d hate to blow my idea on this blog and then be left empty-handed and broken-hearted when I someday get the chance to live out my dream and escape into my three-part harmony-fueled fantasy.