There's a place I go emotionally sometimes and I can't listen to Annie or Anything Goes or Legally Blonde. Sometimes there is an ache inside that reminds me of being a teenager, a deep sense of loneliness that is based not in circumstance but in something less tangible. Maybe it is the cold edge creeping into the fall air; maybe it is a whisp of a memory of someone I've lost; maybe it's the gloom that comes with the shortening of the days; maybe it's none of these things and all of them. Today was one of those days.
Today's melancholy led me to an album I had put away for awhile. Once a constant companion, Spring Awakening has become obscured behind Once, HAIR, Bonnie & Clyde, The Book of Mormon, and all of the other cast albums I've fallen in love with in the past five years. My love for the show never wained, but as time passed I found I needed Spring Awakening less. Today, that need was back; and my companion was there, as trusty as always, with the same dark beauty with the same sense of comfort as before.
There are cast albums that we blast as we decorate for a party. There are those that are perfect for driving along an open highway with the top down. Certain albums make perfect workout soundtracks, or deliciously accompany us as we're getting ready for an exciting big date. There are those we love to sing along to, and share with our friends as we giggle at the lyrics. Then there are those, as Spring Awakening is for me, that are best enjoyed like a bubble bath: warm, slow, and solitary.
Despite the dark themes -- or perhaps because of them -- my own sadness is allayed when I listen to Spring Awakening.
What cast albums do this for you?
About the Author
A passionate observer of all things theatrical, @ BroadwayGirlNYC via her blog and on Twitter has helped to lead the way of interaction between fans,