So much to like. So why didn’t “Optimistic Voices” resonate more with me? I think the lyrics of the folksy songs kept me at a distance, even though the harmonizing was pleasant. Needy queries were interspersed with nonsense imagery and smutty phrases (the profanity got random, annoying guffaws from the crowd). Some examples from the libretto: “Have I offended you?” “Do you think I’m really talented or just, like, mildly talented?” “Melt inside my pussy Mr. General Manager.” “Sit back up and dance you fucking bitch.” “Wild butterfly what do you know?” Lucy Kaminsky was the main speaker/singer, and I didn’t envy her having to sell some of these lines—which were either too on the nose (as when she threatened to take her shirt off and then did so) or abstruse (“rotary on the island shampoo bottle”). The textual material felt like it was trying too hard to shock without saying much.
Throughout, the dancers kept fidgeting by pushing their fists through their clothing. In this neurotic yet childlike manner, they were stretching out and distorting their tights, trunks, tops, pants, etc. I was so glad it wasn’t on me, for once, to shout: “stop ruining your shirt!” But it’s hard to turn that parental mode off, and I kept thinking it. Maybe I couldn’t get into May’s “Optimistic Voices” because it triggered too many of the nagging voices in my own head.
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