What are the stories that I feel earn the telling as a Playwright/Composer/Lyricist?  I pursue taking simple experiences and complicating them. Through philosophy and mythology– and a healthy dose of levity– I find a musical where you would never think to look. What do Orville Wright, a college dropout, and an alien have in common? They’re artists, and casualties thereof.

In mythology, reality is subjective. A musical is no different. I don’t view musical theatre as having a fourth wall– or even a disembodied orchestra. It is a lived experience with a community, whether they bought a ticket or learned some lines. In celebrating this unity, I find a subtle immersion that cultivates a new audience who never realize they’re watching a musical at all. They’re in a room thinking together.

My musicals are at home in as varied places as a field, a living room, a derelict mansion, or a proscenium. I come from a family who watches football more than Fellini, and I carry that sense of accessibility in everything I write. Like a true athlete, I enjoy the strategy over the fight, and win the hearts of playwrights and little league coaches at once. This, I feel, is where modern musicals tend to miss the mark. Theatre is everywhere, and my musicals point that out to you. 

I tend to disagree with the concept that a song only should occur where words fail. I believe characters should sing because they know they are singing– and not in a simple diegesis debate. In Showboat, Magnolia sings the reprise of “Can’t Help Lovin’ That Man of Mine” as an audition, but means every heartbreaking word. It’s the emotion of the song that wins the day, not the genre. The song’s the thing.

I want to make musicals that every member of the family has someone to relate to. Through history, I want to talk about our future. And through remembering, I want to unite.