'Buddy: The Buddy Holly Story' By Vince Harris Published: August 1, 2007 in The Beat Let's get one thing straight from the jump, kids: As a rule, I don't like musicals, or musical theater. I've just never been able to scale the mountain of disbelief that rises in front of me when people suddenly burst into song for no reason and no one moves immediately to have this person committed. That's just me, I guess. So beware, dear readers, as you move forward, for you are dealing with a non-believer. Luckily enough in this case, however, I am completely full of crap. I went to the Centre Stage last night full of ambivalence about how the show was going to strike me, and I'm very happy to report that I was entirely wrong. Let's get the technical stuff out of the way first: As usual, the lighting and sound at Centre Stage were perfect. I know this because I didn't think about either one for one second, for the entire length of the show. The only time I couldn't hear someone speaking, it was because I wasn't supposed to hear them. The staging was typically bare-bones, with only some risers, a desk or two, a revolving backdrop behind the drum kit and two projector screens. These props served as a radio station, several concert halls, an apartment and a recording studio, while images of 1950's America, Buddy and The Crickets, and other mood-setting exposition flashed on the screens. The musicians, guitarist John Atkins, bassist Joe Brookshire and drummer Kip Brock were absolutely first-rate. This stripped-down trio had a heavy load on their shoulders; in addition to serving as the house band for the show, they also had onstage roles, and all three came through with flying colors. And I need to give a special mention to Brookshire, who is one of the most dexterous bass players I've ever seen. The show started at the end of the story: As Don McLean's "American Pie" filled the theater, a lone spotlight came to rest on a Fender Stratocaster guitar lying onstage, its player absent. It's a strikingly moving moment. As the lights come up, we're in Lubbock, Texas, 1956, as a struggling Buddy Holly (Will Ragland) strains against being typecast as a country singer. Local DJ/manager Hip Pockets Duncan (Brian Coker) is trying desperately to find a place within the confines of country music for his rock & roll rebel, but Holly will not compromise. There are a couple of early scenes between Coker and Ragland that were probably the most important in the play, at least for me. They were key humanizing elements in a story that is often so fast-paced and adoring that it's hard to get a sense of Holly as a genuine, flawed human being, and his interaction with the sympathetic Hip Pockets is a quick glance behind the curtain of Holly's genius. As the story gets up to speed, we hit all the expected biography points: Holly's abortive stab at recording in Nashville, his discovery by producer Norman Petty, and the intensive recording sessions that yielded classics like "Everyday," "That'll Be the Day," and "It's So Easy." I should note here that the songs aren't worked into the dialogue like a typical musical; they're done as straight performances, whether onstage or in the recording studio, and I can't applaud that decision enough. Instead of breaking the mood by inserting a song into a given scene, the show focuses almost entirely on the music itself, putting several songs in a row with minimal dialogue in between. I can't think of a better way to shine a light on Holly's legacy. From the studio scene, we go to a trial-by-fire for Holly and The Crickets at the Apollo Theater in Harlem in 1957. Many people listening to him on the radio assumed Holly was black, and when those four lily-white boys show up to play for the legendarily tough Apollo crowd, it's a shock for everyone involved. There's a brief showcase for the "Apollo performers" at this point, and I have to say that Pie Houston damn near stole the show with an explosively soulful version of "Georgia on My Mind." The audience was part of the show from the beginning, and they needed little encouragement to clap, dance and sing along throughout. I must admit the second act doesn't flow as well as the first. It's nice to see Holly's relationship with his wife, Maria Elena (played with a plucky sweetness by Maria Katsadouros), but the concentration of love ballads in the second act slows the pace considerably. And at a slower pace, we really should've been able to spend a little more time getting to know Maria; as it is, she seems to flit in and out of the play before we can even register her presence. And the extended sequence at Holly's final concert, the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, Iowa, drags a little as well. The appearance of the Big Bopper (Joe Wehunt) and Ritchie Valens (Joseph Molina) are vital to the story (they both died in the plane crash that claimed Holly's life immediately after the show) and went over well with the crowd, but in my view, they took the focus off Holly a little too much, and padded the show unnecessarily. But a rousing finale of "Rave On" and "Oh Boy," combined with a brief image of the newspaper headline announcing Holly's death, brought the show back on track in a rousing and moving fashion, ending it on as high a note as it began. Overall, it's an excellent show, but I would be extremely remiss if I didn't take a moment to highlight Will Ragland's performance as Holly. He commits himself so passionately to the role that his sheer stage presence almost throws the show off-balance. He simply IS Buddy Holly, striving for his music with a passionate, occasionally off-putting hard-headedness in the first act, and swaggering with good-natured, likeable confidence in the second. And Ragland's live vocals are unbelievably strong, an improvement on the already excellent CD we reviewed in these pages last week. In short, he gives this role everything he's got, which is exactly what a legend like Holly deserves.