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The Great Plotnik saw a World Premiere last night. It is based on a record album recorded in 1991. The music left such an impression on the playwright that he constructed an entire musical around this one record. There is a four piece live band backing up the two man cast. Plot went alone: Ducknik stayed home to pack for the DC/NY trip. This became important later.

Plotnik realizes he is getting in the habit of complaining on Plotnik and praising on that there Theater Blog, but this is only partly true. His Anti-Googling Filter has become more important than it used to be. He is Using Code Now. Take that, Google!

By the way, it's not because Plottie didn't like the show, he did. The reason is that we're not allowed to comment in print, in a PC world, about the hair of the four-piece band members.

OK, it's a boy meets boy, boy gets boy, boy loses boy story. So they've picked out a lesbian band. Of COURSE they have. NO, Plotnik did not ask the band members their sexual preference, NO he doesn't care one way or the other as long as they can play, and these women were adequate, if limited by the somewhat simplistic music.

But as soon as the reviewer saw the longer dyke-ish gray hair on the first guitarist and the dreadlocks on the second, he turned to Ducknik to tell her that he KNEW there would be a Mohawk back there somewhere and also probably Elvis Costello. He KNEW it. But you can't say that kind of thing out loud.

(And Ducknik wasn't there! THIS is why Plotnik has to blog about it. Blame Ducknik!)

What happened next? Plotnik stood up and saw what looked like the top of a porcupine rising out of the drummer's chair -- the Mohawk -- and then he turned his head to spy the bass player's short man's haircut with thick black glasses -- Elvis Costello.

He hates it when this happens. If he can spot the cliches before the show even starts, what does it portend for the actual performance?

As it turns out, gay-ness or non-gayness had absolutely nothing to do with this simple and touching story, and the music is universal. It is universally sweet. It does not make you gag. It does not make you make you want to go ritually slaughter a cat. There are two live electric guitars and drums which are very very very welcome inside a legitimate theater. You might want to rush out and purchase the ten albums this singer/songwriter has recorded. Not Plotnik, but you, maybe.

Crap, he is really getting jaded. Is Plotnik getting jaded?

He also had to take the subway to, uh, the place where the show is playing, and that meant crossing a body of water (one of two possibilities) and changing trains, which is fine going but takes a long time coming home and the alarm went off at five a.m.

Plotnik is writing this mid-air. Maybe he's not jaded, just starved for "There's a Place for Us" or even, God rest his elderly soul, "Memory." There. Plotnik just listed the music from "Cats" and didn't whine. Crap. He IS whining.

You can read a certain theater blog's review about some play somewhere by going to that theater blog, see, or you can sign up for a direct feed. Take THAT Google!