Gerry Geddes’ “Selfies and Songs” at Pangea Was as Inspirational as It Was Beautifully Entertaining

By Michael Barbieri***In my considered opinion, Gerry Geddes is one of the finest directors in cabaret. I’ve been aware of this fact for many years now, as I had worked with him when I was a technical director, back in the day. One thing of which I was not aware, is what a good writer and storyteller he is as well! This new show, Selfies and Songs, an offshoot of his Fabulous First Fridays series at Pangea, proved this fact most definitively!

Much like the Fabulous First Fridays series, Selfies and Songs was presented as a variety show of sorts. This particular show hit on a much more personal level, however. Here, a selection of wonderful, often surprising, songs were interspersed with Geddes’ recollections of his early life in New York City. And it’s certainly been quite a life so far!

Not only is Geddes a terrific director and writer, but he also knows talent. And here he’s assembled a stellar array of singers to bring his selfies—his memories about self— to life through song. The evening began with Andre Montgomery performing a jazzy “I Could Write a Book” (R. Rodgers, L. Hart), followed by Geddes’ tale of a book he wrote whilst suffering from “a bad case of unemployment… one for which there was no vaccine!”

We also heard about Geddes’ childhood crush on a young boy named Ronnie, the sex dreams he had about the boy and how those dreams were eventually replaced with dreams of getting out of his hometown and escaping to New York. This particular “selfie” led into a most unexpected musical selection, the Pet Shop Boys’ “It’s a Sin” (N. Tenant, C. Lowe). I have to admit I wasn’t quite sure how this synth-pop dance hit would translate to a cabaret setting, but with a brilliant arrangement by musical director Yasuhiko Fukuoka, and as sung by Brian Childers and Andre Montgomery, it actually worked remarkably well! The blend of Childers’ and Montgomery’s voices along with the driving rhythm of Yaz’s piano, brought out the dark frustration in the lyric. Yet the number still managed to be an ode to longing and fantasy, as well as to how much sexual mores have changed since the song was written—and certainly since Geddes was a child.

A story about Geddes’ casual encounter with a young man in Greenwich Village, and the emotional reaction he had when Geddes played Joni Mitchell’s “The Last Time I Saw Richard,” led into Childers’ introspective and poignant delivery of Mitchell’s song. Geddes also told us of his experience working with Jim Steinman and a young actor named Marvin Lee Aday—also known as Meat Loaf. This memory was the lead-in to Matt DiPasquale’s gorgeous rendition of Steinman’s “Heaven Can Wait,” a HUGE favorite of mine ever since Meat Loaf’s Bat Out of Hell album was released in 1977. To his credit, Di Pasquale’s version did the original proud and moved me to tears, much as the original still does! And an account of Geddes attending a performance of Oh, Coward! on Broadway, with Marlene Dietrich and Noel Coward himself sitting directly in front of him, brought about Childers’ amusing and perfectly Coward-esque take on “A Bar on the Piccola Marina” (N. Coward).

One of the evening’s most outstanding moments was Geddes’ tale of seeing the original workshop performances of A Chorus Line during his time working at the Public Theater, which led into Montgomery, DiPasquale and Childers teaming up for a glorious all-male version of “At the Ballet” (M. Hamlisch, E. Kleban). Not only was this rendition sung beautifully, but all three men showed off their acting skills as well, bringing all the heartbreak, bitterness and beauty of the material to life!

Another remarkable selfie was Geddes’ story of meeting the Cockettes, an avant garde psychedelic theater troupe from San Francisco. The Cockettes were made up of hippies, druggies, drag queens and other counterculture notables. One of their “star” performers was drag disco icon Sylvester, who was sadly lost to AIDS in 1988. Geddes’ memories of tragic loss prefaced DiPasquale’s gorgeous interpretation of “Angels, Punks and Raging Queens” (B. Russell), which was both sorrowful and beautiful at the same time. Additionally, Yaz’s arrangement, while simple and elegant, managed to interweave phrases of Sylvester’s hit song, “Mighty Real” (J. Wirrick, Sylvester), giving the number even deeper meaning. It was a sad, yet respectful way to pay tribute to those we’ve lost and a lovely way to end the evening.

Shows like Selfies and Songs, while entertaining, are also historically important—in particular to generations who may not be familiar or mindful of history in general and to LGBTQ history specifically. To me, however, this show felt like a gift to many of us who’ve shared similar moments here in New York during the 1970s and 80s; a gift I was more than happy to receive. Geddes plans to make Selfies and Songs an ongoing series at Pangea, and considering the talented performers he has on tap and the remarkable life he’s led, I can definitely envision many more wonderful selfies to come.