4000 Miles - Amy Herzog

4000 Miles
University of Adelaide Theatre Guild, Little Theatre, Sat 9 Oct 

Amy Herzog’s Pulitzer Prize winning 4000 Miles covers a lot of territory. It skips across multiple social and political issues affecting the contemporary American landscape. Ageism, dementia, the generation gap, incest, blended families, communism, gender balance in relationships, the importance of real communication, the role of therapy, alienation and loneliness to name a few. And yet not for one minute does it get bogged down in polemics or virtuous lecturing. Indeed, these are all side issues neatly woven into the basic tale of a young man trying to reconnect with family via his grandmother after an exhilarating and heartbreaking bicycle journey across America.

His grandmother, Vera, is in her 80s and lives alone. Though she is struggling with the old age curse of forgetfulness, she is still sharp enough to surprise her grandson with insights about politics and her past. Vera is wonderfully played by Julie Quick. You are immediately drawn into her increasingly lonely world and share her childlike excitement when her grandson Leo, played by Jackson Barnard, decides to stay awhile with her in her New York apartment. Barnard does a good job of playing the confused young man who slowly learns to relate to his grandma who chatters way incessantly while the young Leo struggles to get a word in. It’s endearing to watch their relationship grow and a shared rooftop joint ironically cements the connection!

Two strong, self-assured performances by two of Leo’s love interests complete the cast line-up. Naomi Gomez is gorgeous and beguiling as Amanda, the ditzy young thing whose language skills don’t appear to extend much further than the ubiquitous ‘oh my god’. Leo brings Amanda home to grandma’s apartment and this delightful comedic scene adds an unexpected element to the ongoing theme of communism.

Director Erik Strauts’ direction is unintrusive and suitably uncomplicated. Excellent use is made of the Little Theatre’s split levels and multiple entry and exit points. Slightly longer than usual interludes between scenes gave the audience opportunity to enjoy Emma Knight’s original piano pieces written specifically for this production, and reflect on what they had just seen.

Really entertaining theatre. Easy to enjoy, plenty to think about if you want to go deeper and in the delightful space that is the Little Theatre, everyone is close to the action.

(This review also published on The Clothesline.)

Song #54 The Sea is Rising

THE SEA IS RISING

(listen HERE)

It's the sea that makes me feel
Feel like this - so young and free
Yes this is me; down by the sea

From across the sea we all came
To live in this land, so far away
From where culture calls home

I'm a man so I could be wrong
I've got white skin so I'm probably wrong
I was raised a Catholic so I'm definitely wrong
But I'm not guilty here down by the sea

Now look at the sea, it's slowly rising
As the ice caps melt; oh how young I felt
Down by the sea

Men and women all so we could be wrong
We've all got white skin so we're probably wrong
All raised by parents so we're definitely wrong
No need to feel guilty; what's all the fuss
This is us - down by the sea

And now I hear there's a hole in the sky
If I want dark skin I might be young when I die
Feelin' older as I stroll on the sand
The sea is rising

What I'm trying to say is there's a lot of things wrong
There's been a lot of blamin' about who done it wrong
No one of us did it; we're all part of a throng
And the sea is rising
And the sea is rising
And the sea is rising

(Copyright M Coghlan 1990)

Commentary

Continuing an extraordinary rush of new songs over a couple of years, here is another contribution to the gathering clamour around climate change. 31 years ago - the song could be still as an anthem for the cause. With a few sideways digs at those who wish to believe that white men and Catholics were responsible for all the ills of the world :) (Things were only going to get much much worse on this front.) 

Song #53 A Hug for the Borderguard

 

A HUG FOR THE BORDERGUARD (listen)

Last night they opened up THE WALL
A source of wonder to us all
Now those who live on the other side
Can walk in peace that great divide
And go on home again

The world is changing

Cold War - what was it anyway?
I was born too late to have a say
That wall - I touched and I gazed at it
And wondered at the why of it
Last night they tore the damn thing down
No man's land became a place for clowns

A hug for the borderguard

As I watch the tears and joy of all those who
Can't quite believe it's OK to go through
Makes me think that I would like to be there too
As they pull the whole thing down
No man's land becomes a place for clowns
Berlin becomes a reunited town

Is the Cold War over?
 
If it happened there it can happen anywhere
A source of hope for the unfree everywhere

Last night they opened up the wall
A source of wonder to us all
No man's land became a place for clowns
Berlin became a reunited town

Is the madness over?
A hug for the borderguard
The world is changing

(Copyright  Michael Coghlan 1989)

Commentary

Like millions of others I watched the TV in awe as vision showed cars and pedestrians moving freely out of East Berlin into the west. I remember seeing a car stop. A woman got out and gave the soldier at the border post a huge long hug. It was one of the more powerful images I'd ever seen. I've never forgotten it. This is my celebration of the Berlin Wall coming down.

Song #52 Grand Old Lady

GRAND OLD LADY

Grand old lady of the family

Mrs Green to some; to me Aunty Marie

The family turned around her

And smiled at her ways

To keep us all together, but now she’s gone

I guess her time had come

 

So many stories of times so long ago

When you were young and beautiful they said

Fifty when I was born, you were always old to me

A sweet and charming grey-haired and old lady

I never knew how old until the last time that I saw you –

Thank you for waking up and squeezing my hand –

Saying whatever it was; telling me whatever it was

 

CHORUS

 

You won’t be coming ‘round on Saturdays no more

While my father’s at the football

My Mum will sit alone; she’ll drink her tea alone

Thinking of her trusted friend

        her dear and trusted friend

 

Of course now you’re gone I have to say I’m sorry

For walking out on your never ending stories

I was young and in a hurry

I was young and in a hurry

 

About your son – you need not be ashamed

I’ll wave a flag for that soft and gentle man

(After) Two years away you told me how I felt

You said it couldn’t be any other way

But sadder and wiser – how true

      Sadder and wiser - now that you have gone

 

CHORUS

 

...of the family

Grand old lady of the family – Aunty Marie

   Goodbye goodbye

   See you in heaven

 

(© M Coghlan 1989)

 

Commentary

I think this is the first song I ever wrote on piano. For our dear Aunty Marie. Talked incessantly but was full of life. Never really recovered from her son (my lovely cousin John) killing himself. After I had been away for a couple of years she told me on my return that I was no doubt sadder and wiser. It surprised me, and I soon realised she was right. She made my childhood and early adulthood a lot more interesting. Rest in peace grand old lady.

Song #51 Late on a Winter's Night

 

LATE ON A WINTER’S NIGHT

 

It’s late on a winter’s night

I’m playin’ alone at home

I wonder if I’ll ever play this song for you

I don’t know what it is that brought you into mind

I only know if you were here it’d be oh so fine

My thoughts again drift back

To that night long ago

I know we both lie awake at night

And wonder if we’ll know

 

Just what it would be like

If we gave ourselves away

Told your jealous man just we would have done

If we had not thought of him and let our passion run

We wouldn’t like awake at night and dream another end

 

You told me you were gonna cross the world

And join me over here

My body burned with excitement and fear

That’s exactly what I’d dreamed

It’s what I’d hoped you’d do

Without a word or letter somehow I always knew

But the birth of a baby kept you home

And the love of a country kept me home

 

So our love becomes a history

I wonder how many years I’ll think of you

Treasured memories of just that one night

The place was fine but the time was just not right

 

It’s late on a winter’s night

I’m playin’ alone at home

I wonder if I’ll ever play this song for you

Be your tambourine man baby

And play this song for you

 

© M Coghlan 1989

Commentary 

Written sitting on the floor in front of a fire back In Adelaide. Joti asleep, feeling alone, and mind drifting back to one beautiful night in Amsterdam.

 

Song #50 Man on Fire

 

MAN ON FIRE

(Listen HERE) 

Look over yonder there’s a man on fire

Life to death just a fusin’ wire

He figures he can’t get much higher

 

Saw a photo once of a man on the street

Alight with flame from his head to his feet

Gone to his end as a man on fire

 

He always knew it was a long time comin’

Lovely ladies always send him runnin’

It’s best he goes this man on fire

 

Burnin’ up from this unloved feelin’

His heart’s aglow; his mind’s a-reelin’

He’s gonna stop the eventual explosion

And end it all as a man on fire

 

Beautiful woman but he can’t reach her

His feelings smoulder; won’t someone teach her

How to love this man on fire

How to save this man in fire

 

See the smoke from across the valley

Soldiers slinkin’ down a broken alley

His number’s up, he ain’t keepin’ tally – anymore

No more

He figures he can’t get much higher

Goin’ to his end as a man on fire

Fire On Fire On Fire Fire

 

(© Michael Coghlan 1989)

Song #49 Across the Mekong

ACROSS THE MEKONG (listen in mp3)

In a world meant for others
I still find it hard to see
My way to the top
When there’s nothing there for me that I can see

I come from far away
But I’m forced to live here
Where everybody talks different
And not many care for me that I can see

I rowed across the Mekong
I spent months upon my feet
With my child in tow behind me
His mother’s gone to meet a different end

I don’t know whether to tell him
That everything will work out fine
He’s learnt the ways of this land
Where the sun always shines – but not for me

I’ve been 7 years a stranger
But there’s still no place for me
And though I still keep tryin’
I’m unemployed and dyin’ but I’m free

So I’ll leave it to my children
To reap the rich reward
From this land I’m forced to die in
Desolate and bored – where is she?

Did you get across the Mekong
And think of us lifelong
This dream we had to find you
Has long since gone away
But we’re free

(Copyright M. Coghlan 1989)

Commentary

I had begun working as an ESL (English as a Second Language) teacher and was in daily contact with people who had come to Australia from all sides of the planet. This song is based on the true story of a Cambodian man who escaped from the Khmer Rouge with his son but lost contact with his wife along the way and found himself alone as a single father here in Australia.

Songwriting

 

Rob Childs, SCALA Founder

After hearing my song Adelaide Born a dear friend suggested that I might write a series of songs in tribute to my home city of Adelaide. Aside from the fact that a few local songwriters (Keith Preston and his merry band, and Fergus Maximus and Dr D) have already done a fine job of this, it’s not really a thing I’m likely to do.  I was asked earlier this year why I write songs and my reply was almost glib but it’s the truth. I just have to. It’s just something I’ve always done. It fulfills a need somehow and it wasn’t ever a conscious decision. It just happened – around age 18 and has continued on and off ever since. What I find fascinating is that there are many fine musicians, some of them outstanding, who have never had the slightest inclination to write their own music. They are quite happy excelling in their craft while playing the music of others.

In a recent songwriting competition people were invited to write a song about South Australia. As I have done more travelling round my home state in this COVID world than in the previous 60 years I thought now would be a good time to put that experience into song. But I missed the deadline. The song will get written – I have begun – but it will take weeks. Perhaps months. There are one or two songs I have written very quickly but the norm for me is that they come into being slowly over an undefined timeframe. It’s a mood thing. Call it waiting for the creative urge if you like, but that’s how new songs happen for me. They come in dribs and drabs over time with no timetable; get reworked and changed as they grow, and at some point are ‘finished.’ (In fact many songs are never finished. It is always illuminating to go back and see the original lyrics of a song, or hear the original tune and realise how much it has changed over the years. They tend to have their own organic life where they keep evolving. ) However, I guess if I forced myself to, or if it were important enough to meet a deadline and finish a song by a certain date, I may be able to, but it's clearly not my preferred way of operating.

Songwriting for me is more of an organic process that occurs when the spirit is moved, or when I feel have something to say. In that sense it plays something of a cathartic role – the expression of thoughts and feelings that you need to get out. In the same way that a writer or painter may use their craft to clarify thoughts, exorcise demons, or simply think things through. These kinds of experiences don’t typically run to a timeframe. They happen when they need to. Or when one is moved, inspired, or provoked!

Song #48 Time Alone

TIME ALONE

 

It’s clear to me you’ll never understand

I never ever wanna be your man

I just like my time alone too much

 

Maybe that’s why they went away

Those two ladies who didn’t stay

Because I like my time alone too much

 

So will I reach old age alone?

Still dreaming of that perfect one

Who just likes her time alone too much

 

I want someone who don’t want me

Who wants to love me as I be

Me who likes his time alone too much

 

I’m not sayin’ that you can’t come

I just wanna be free to run

And leave you free to be alone too much

(M. Coghlan 1989)

Commentary

Alone again and at age 35 slowly working out who I am! This song had a very short life. I think there was a short time when I needed to say this out loud. It's complicated but there's a happy ending - I found her :)

Song #47 Adelaide Born

 

ADELAIDE BORN (listen)

 

  Adelaide born, 1954
  Born in the suburbs
  And what the hell for?
  To live for my fellow man,
  Or to grow grey, old and wise?
 

  Adelaide born, 1954
  No longer wonder
  What I'm here for
  'Cos six years ago
  I had my eyes opened by a child.
 

  My dad was a cop
  Out on the west coast
  So I got to travel
  Younger than most
  And that is a habit I find hard to break
  To this day
 

  I spent my youth
  In a fishing town
  In a place called Lincoln
  Where the tuna come in, and people win medals
  And cash in on big crops
  Of herb
 

  Now when people ask
  Why do you stay?
  Go out and see some other way
  Where people live on the edge,
  And cash in on seamier lives.
 

  But I've been gone
  For many a long stretch,
  And I'm back again
  To enjoy the balm
  Of this lovely piece of land
  Out on the plains by the sea
 

  And there are many right here
  Who've been away
  And have felt the load
  Of a harder road
  Where cities are bigger,
  And skies are much bleaker
  And so what?
 

  I'm Adelaide born, 1954
  And I'll be gone -
  There's nothing more sure.
  I don't want to hide away.
  I want to know if my dream's real.
  I don't want to hide away.
  I want to know if my dream's real.

(Copyright Michael Coghlan, 1989)

Commentary

I had grown up singing countless songs about American towns and cities. I have always envied American songwriters for singing about their own places and this was my first attempt to do something similar for my own hometown :)

This song earned another mention on this blog back in May. For a touch of video of a young man.