Passing Strange (review)

Both blacks and whites created and consumed early rock ‘n’ roll, and it is often romanticized as a great unifier that helped spark civil rights. Yet the style’s crossover had less to do with racial harmony than with the music industry’s interest in exploiting the exploding youth market. R&B had been made and consumed by blacks for years; rock ‘n’ roll was essentially the same stuff, ironically renamed for a broader audience by using black slang for sex. As the style caught on, white acts reaped the fruits of a black-pioneered musical revolution. By the late 1960s, rock ‘n’ roll, shortened to “rock,” had become strongly identified with white artists and audiences, while R&B morphed into “soul” and remained largely associated with black musicians and consumers.

Broadway in the 1970s saw a surge in popularity of both black and rock musicals, which should have been mutually beneficial, since productions from each camp courted new audiences by featuring scores with at least passing reference to contemporary popular music. Yet popular music remained segregated by an industry interested in targeting increasingly fragmented audiences, and Broadway reflected the tendency: black musicals weren’t marketed as rock musicals or rock operas because “rock” was for white people. Jesus Christ Superstar was a “rock opera”; The Wiz was a “soul musical.”

Today, despite the increased presence of people of color in supporting roles, shows like The Who’s Tommy, Rent, and Spring Awakening are still labeled rock musicals, while shows by and about black people are not. Passing Strange, the semiautobiographical

Chad Goodridge, Daniel Breaker, Colman Domingo, Stew, and Rebecca Naomi Jones in Passing Strange. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

Stew (Narrator) confronts Daniel Breaker (Youth) in Passing Strange. Photo: Carol Rosegg.

musical by singer-songwriter Stew, defies such lazy categorizations and resists musical theatre conventions. It’s a rock musical and a black musical that depicts outsiders and obliterates socially constructed distinctions. Despite its problems with character development and plot trajectory, especially in the second act, Passing Stange is an important—and potentially enormously influential-—musical.

Passing Strange follows the exploits of Youth (Daniel Breaker), Stew’s peripatetic younger self. Stew narrates Youth’s search for artistic fulfillment and comfort in his own skin. The musical opens in 1976, when Youth, dragged by his mother (Eisa Davis) to church in their black, middle-class Los Angeles neighborhood, has what he initially interprets as a religious experience. But rock, not God, is beckoning: “I can feel the spirit and it’s real! . . . Reverend Jones is singing the blues! And what we’re doing is call and response—we brought it over from the Motherland! Mom, we’re all just a tribe of bluesy Africans and church ain’t nothing but rock and roll!” When his mother demands that he distinguish between the sacred and the profane, Youth responds: “I can’t hear the difference.”

Youth joins the choir and forms a punk band. He isn’t the only outsider. The reverend’s son and choir director, Franklin (Colman Domingo), admits that his religious devotion and related closeted status make him feel lowlier than a slave: “Slaves got options . . . escape . . . revolt . . . death. . . . But cowards . . . only have . . . consequences.” Youth realizes that he and Franklin exist beyond societal norms: they are “black folks passing for black folks.” So Youth decides to pursue music in Amsterdam and later in Berlin.

Passing Strange underplays many theatrical conventions. As with Hair, Rent, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, and Spring Awakening, the band and actors in Passing Strange share a sparse stage. It features frequent fourth-wall breaks and begins informally as the band ambles onstage, greets the audience, and starts playing. The loud, driving score is clearly the most important aspect of Passing Strange. The band works almost constantly; when not accompanying songs, it plays under the dialogue. This allows the...