Forever Plaid celebrates rock history that never was
On the evening of February 9, 1964, after months rehearsing in their parents’ basements, the vocal quartet The Plaids set out for their first concert at the Airport Hilton’s Fusel Lounge.
They never made it.
A bus filled with Catholic schoolgirls ran full-tilt into their car and ended their dreams of success – also their lives. But for them, Purgatory was an uneasy resting place. Their restless spirits were haunted by the unfulfilled dreams of what that night might have meant. And so they went to the power of the universe for a divine dispensation. Their petition was granted, the Pearly Gates opened for a couple of hours, and they were allowed to present the concert they never gave.
Those of us who were at the Mayfield Dinner Theatre last Friday night were fortunate enough to be there for the momentous occasion. (In truth, the event will be repeated nightly at the dinner theatre through July 29.)
Actually, given what was presented, The Plaids, known individually as Frankie (Steven Greenfield), Smudge (Kamyar Pazandeh), Jinx (Farren Timoteo) and Sparky (Andrew MacDonald-Smith), would never really have made it. You might note that February 9, 1964 was the night the Beatles first performed on The Ed Sullivan Show and forever sealed the fate of such squeaky clean quartets as The Four Aces and The Four Lads.
But what an entertaining evening it is for those of us who can revel in the hokey comedy bits, the deliriously awful choreography and the painful intros. “We’d like to dedicate this song to all the juniors and seniors out there and to anyone who has even been to a prom and for those of you who don’t have a date – please think of us as your date.” You practically smell the Brylcreem and Old Spice. And just wait until these kids from Middle America don straw hats for the calypso songs of the time. They even mount a Beatles medley, and the charm of all this is – no matter what they do – it all comes out sounding Plaid.
OMG! Simple, appealing songs all strung together by a talented cast who takes great delight in sending up the simple morality of the pop songs of the time, but that obviously respects the material. What a concept. And no, you really didn’t have to have been there in the ‘50s and ‘60s – Forever Plaid is a fun entertainment that transcends time.
It also helps that the songs they sang were tuneful – even memorable in some cases. The four lads cast in the Mayfield production are all blessed with impressive pipes and deliver powerful balanced harmonies that, upon occasion, will sit you upright in year seat. There are representations of the standard pop repertoire of the time such as Rags to Riches, Crazy ‘Bout You Baby, Undecided, No Not Much and This or That. When the group stretches for the big emotions and begins ringing the chords of such crowd pleasers as Scotland the Brave, Shangri-La and (especially) Love is a Many Splendored Thing, you may be sorry if you missed the decade.
It’s the chord progressions that sell the show, but the genial cast also shines individually. Each of the four players has a solo moment in such songs as Cry (in full Johnny Ray mode). Perfidia is rendered in a perfectly awful fractured Spanish version. Pazandeh unleashes an appreciable lower register (and a not bad upper one as well) in Tennessee Ernie Ford’s 16 Tons. The group invites an audience member on stage to play everyone’s first one-fingered piano solo – the top part in Heart and Soul – while the lads sing the Four Aces hit in the background. In an awesome display of chutzpah, they stage an entire season of the Ed Sullivan Show, complete with Topo Gigio, Senior Wences, the Flying Wallendas, jugglers, accordion players and puppets – all in three minutes and 11 seconds.
Director Kate Ryan reaches deep into her apparently bottomless bag of theatrical tricks to keep everything light and breezy and directs with a complete understanding of the material. The celebratory finale is Love is a Many Splendored Thing. The introduction is set up in the hallowed terms of a CBC music commentator describing Beethoven’s 9th – and darned if the performers don’t tear into it. Rising to full voice with intricately woven four-part harmonies, the old Sammy Fain-Paul Francis Webster warhorse elevates to pop classic status.
The quartet is accompanied at the piano by Ryan Sigurdson who manages to make the Mayfield grand sound like a full orchestra. Derek Stremel is solid on bass. Cindy Kerr has hilariously reawakened the precise jive-y moves of the quartets of the time.
We’ve seen this show on a number of occasions, and this is its second time around at the Mayfield. This production is solidly the best of them all – funky, finger poppin’, fab and groovy.
