Face To The Wall
a cabaret based on the work of The Beatles

Conceived by Brian Lasser and Amy Coleman, arranged and directed by Brian Lasser. Musical director, Dick Gallagher.

The late Brian Lasser was a composer lyricist and arranger best known for his work with Karen Mason. He is sorely missed by all who worked with him. It's probably safe to say that this was his most daring work as an arranger and director of cabaret.

Theme shows built around the work of one songwriter or composing team can be challenging exercises in cabaret. Most of the more prominent creators have already been done by the best in the business, so you are up against not only well-remembered, original versions of songs, but also competing with other, possibly better known cabaret artists who have similarly mined the same vein.

But if you understand the dangers and accept the risks, the potential advantages are equally great. There's nothing more exciting than watching a singer take a completely familiar song and make it her own with a daring, novel approach or rendition so compelling you forget that anyone else ever sang it.

At Don't Tell Mama, Amy Coleman's powerful, revisionist look at the Beatles' catalog makes for stunning, dramatic cabaret. With arrangements by Brian Lasser and musical direction from Dick Gallagher, Coleman alters the phrasing and original thrust of the Lennon/McCartney chart busters so thoroughly and effectively, they become almost totally new and different songs.

Coleman's coquettish glide from "Little Child" into "I saw Him Standing There" becomes an adult, almost lascivious jaunt as she lingers and gloats on the line, "He was just seventeen/If you know what I mean." "I'm a Loser," arranged as a bluesy, torch number, softens into a plaintive "Yesterday." And, in one of the evening's most delightful surprises, the Lasser/Coleman combination finds a cross between the Southern blues and the cha-cha for "You Can't Do That."

The show is full of such surprising revelations. Coleman reads the words to "The Long and Winding Road" as a straight poetic exercise, bringing out an unexpected irony in the lyrics and then caps it off with "Hide Your Love Away." "Day Tripper" melts into "Yes It Is." The hour flies by, nourished by the refreshing arrangements and Coleman's incredibly flexible, dazzling voice.

Amy Coleman has long been one of cabaret's most promising vocalists, with a voice at the top of the field. Over the past two years, she's been developing as a stylist and interpreter of great depth and finesse. With this show she has reached the pinnacle occupied by only a handful of other cabaret artists. This show is radically different from anything you're used to seeing in cabaret, and not to be missed.

On the plane to Europe Chrysis gave me her precious plaster of paris Mother Mary to hold., knowing that I had a terrible fear of flying. She said Mary would keep the plane safe. We were roommates for most of the tour, but in all that time I never saw anything vaguely resembling her penis, although she made it very clear that she still had one.

Once I let her completely shave off my eyebrows and then draw fake ones on. It felt like a bonding ceremony. It took months for them to grow back. I loved her. She was always a "she" to me and to everyone else who knew her. One afternoon in Berlin she became frantic. She needed a hormone fix. S he said she just wasn't feeling pretty and needed a boost. .After a quick phone call she went out to score and when she returned I watched her shoot up. Literally in front of my eyes her skin softened, her voice got higher and she got happier. That night she flirted with the techies at the Tempodrome (the outdoor theater that we performed in) and seemed to float on air.

A few weeks later Chrysis left the tour. She had gotten an important role in the Nick Nolte movie Q & A, playing, what else, a drag queen. Surprisingly she didn't really want to go. We were in Capri and she was having a great time. She also didn't like that there was a scene in the movie where she had to take her wig and makeup off. She found it degrading and a typical Hollywood cheap shot. But off she went knowing that the film would be important for her career. Needless to say ,the rest of the tour was not the same without her.

When I got back to N.Y. I spoke to her almost immediately .She was going to Florida for work. She said she wasn't feeling well. She felt tired and weak. Within a month Chrysis was diagnosed with cancer. It quickly spread and the last time I saw her was in the hospital. She was still beautiful. She complained about having to give the hospital her birth name. She said she hadn't used it since she became a drag queen-a lifetime ago. She begged me to give her a cigarette. I told her I didn't feel right about it but she pleaded and I gave in. She went into the bathroom sneaking the cigarette like a school girl. The next summer I was on tour again with the Hot Peaches.I got a call while we were in Hamburg that Chrysis had died…

I've had many dreams of Chrysis since her death. She appears serene and beautiful hovering above me adorned in full makeup and flowing robes. Still, always and forever a fierce drag queen angel.

Bearing an odd resemblance to Flip Wilson, as often as not she was on roller skates and managed somehow to change outfits completely during a single ride from one end of the village to the other. To the naive spectator she might have appeared to be just another member of the ranks so often referred to as the "homeless mentally ill". A passerby on the street might never have imagined that she was a founding member of S.T.A.R. (street transvestite action Revolutionaries), a self styled political action group that tried, largely in vain and with literally no money, to build housing and provide services for the growing number of young gay, lesbian and transengendered souls who began arriving in the late sixties".

Copyright 1996 by Julian Fleisher

Of all the characters I've met, and I've met a few , Marsha was…well the most eccentric. I worked with her,off and on, throughout my time with the Hot Peaches. She was a street queen, definitely not a glamour queen, although she would probably not have seen it that way. She dressed in drag that was alternately too small or too big or just kind of off the beaten track, even for a drag queen. She was often very funny, although I was never sure if she meant to be. She was kind of the Gracie Allen of the downtown drag queens. She had an innocence and naivete and a strange cadence to her speech that was half child and half…I don't know what, that could be touching and at the same time hilarious.

My most vivid memories of Marsha are during the time the Hot Peaches played in London. Marsha had not come with the troupe on previous European tours because…well if you knew Marsha you would know that she might be a little much for the people in some of the smaller provincial towns we played in. I think Jimmy Camicia, the founding father of the hot peaches, thought London could handle her. Ha, Ha, Ha!

I remember one bleak, gray, afternoon, we had just finished rehearsing when Marsha just lost it. She ran from the theatre, screaming at the top of her lungs, throwing off pieces of her homeless "chic" as she went. Now the English (unless they've had a few) are famous for their stiff upper lip, so it was quite amusing to watch the pedestrians try to appear nonchalant as they watched this tall, wiry, Black Queen, run through the streets in high heels , an old lady wig, shedding woman's clothing. Of course, she stopped traffic. That might have been partly due to the fact that she was running in the middle of the street. I think eventually Jimmy caught up to her and calmed her down. We never found out what had set her off. On the other hand, she could be very demure and lady-like in her own way. I actually remember her more that way, so it was disconcerting to have seen the Medea-side of her appear so abruptly. I think the British brought it out in her. May be she just wanted to shake them up a bit.

The other incident concerning Marsha that stands out for me, was when I was going back to New York from London. My husband had come to visit me and Marsha asked if we would chaperone her during the flight home. The rest of the troupe was hanging out for a while, but she wanted to go back. We said, yes, of course, we'd be happy to travel with her. The morning we were to leave Marsha showed up at our hotel room in male drag. I'd never seen her dressed as a man before, and what a sight to behold. She wore a three piece herring bone tweed suit that was three sizes too small, a bow tie and wing tip shoes that were three sizes to big - she looked uncomfortable to say the least. She said she was very afraid that customs would detain her at the airport. She asked if her butch outfit looked convincing. We lied and said yes. She was very nervous as we checked in, but everything went off without a hitch until we got to New York. Marsha was agitated as we approached U.S. customs. I really thought she was over reacting. I mean sure she was unusual looking, but hey, there were a lot of strange looking characters in and out of airports all the time. Well when we got to customs, Marsha was immediately pulled aside. The officer opened her luggage to find a vast array of boas, rhinestone jewelry of every shape and form, platform shoes, high heeled shoes, garter belts, tiara's, you name it. Well , before we knew it the customs guy had summoned over his co workers .They started asking Marsha questions like , why was she traveling with all this women's clothing. They were holding her costumes up , examining them. Oh lord, poor Marsha, she looked so frightened, but she smiled her innocent smile and said the clothes were for her aunt, who was in show business, or something like that. I don't think they believed her, but what could they do, they let her go. I'm sure it was the most fun they had had all day. When the ordeal was over Marsha was shaken, but at least she was back home. So we put her in a cab and said goodbye. That was the last time I saw her.

Some years ago Marsha's body was discovered in the Hudson River. Her death remains a mystery. Some believe it was suicide, others are convinced she was murdered. One thing is for sure, for those of us who knew her she will never be forgotten.