Although I indulged in Orlando's energetic nightlife scene during my younger years (RIP I-Bar and Rosie O'Grady's), today I tend to avoid Orange Avenue and Church Street for the sake of my sanity and hearing. However, last weekend I was lured into the lion's den by two new venues, and learned that it is possible for adults to enjoy a proper, sound evening downtown.

My first stop was at Proper listening room (112 S. Orange Ave., properorlando.com), the latest venture from developer Jeffrey Gitto's V Group, and likely one of the last clubs to debut downtown before a moratorium on new bars goes into effect. Surrounded by sumptuous hardwood walls accented with tiger-head wallpaper, I sat on an oversized sofa sipping silky-smooth buttered bourbon with Proper's artistic director, Kevin G. Becker, whom I've known as a friend and collaborator (through our Empty Spaces Theatre Co.) for two decades. His latest gig curating Proper's entertainment is the culmination of a 40-plus year career in the music and performance industry, which began at age 5 with an appearance on Philadelphia-area TV in the Al Alberts Showcase. Becker first came to Orlando in the 1990s, starting his undergraduate degree in music compositional theory at Rollins (where he DJed on WPRK), then returned in the aughts after touring with his brother in an alternative rock band.

"Music has always been in my blood," says Becker, who is an avid vinyl collector as well as a musician and composer. Rather than rely on outside promoters (who he says "have no interest really at the end of the day [in] the brand or the bar or the community"), Becker built a "23-slide pitch deck" to convince Gitto into letting him curate both Proper's extensive, eclectic record collection — currently 965 albums, with a target of 2,000 — as well as the slate of "selectors" who spin the quartet of top-end turntables.

Listening rooms originated in 1950s Tokyo, and traditionally forced patrons to sit silently focusing on the music. Becker says he and his team have "Orlando-ized" the concept, choosing to focus on "community outreach and community engagement."

To that end, virtually all of Proper's vinyl was sourced locally (except for "a few things I've had to go into weird Eastern Bloc countries to find") and local record stores like Remix are being invited to sell their wares at "Cratetails" happy hours. There will also be a members-only Record Club, private monthly events where "you'll be able to bring in a record or two [and] get to hear something that you love [on] our system."

click to enlarge

photo by Seth Kubersky

That's a rare opportunity because ordinarily Proper doesn't accept requests (with limited upcharge exceptions), instead letting the selectors craft a cohesive audio journey. Those curators include both celebrated "resident artists" like Nigel "Blacksuede" John, Blue Star and Mr Mogambo and up-and-coming "house selectors" who Becker says "have deep loves and passions for vinyl and [are] looking to get into the industry," likening them to an arts incubator program. With no microphones or beats-per-minute mandates, Becker tells his artists, "It's your living room and the clientele are being invited into your house, [so the] more that you're sharing rare cuts and rare things that people might not know, the better."

As the din of Orange Avenue droned on outside the bar's wide-open front wall, a swinging duet between Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong drifted soothingly from the Danley Sound Labs loudspeakers (each costlier than a luxury car) mounted overhead. That's just one disc in a diverse library that ranges from the 1930s and 1940s — including vintage recordings by Edith Piaf and Josephine Baker — to 1970s Nigerian funk and modern psychedelic soul. Of course, you'll also find that some Harry Styles and Lizzo made the cut, and if you ever hear Styx's "Come Sail Away" in there, you can blame my donation.

Top Stories

Floria education officials target Leon County superintendent for opposing Gov. DeSantis

Although that wide-open window seems a strange setup for a sophisticated sonic experience, Becker says Proper's team is embracing the sounds of our city because their goal is "to bring back the culture and the community that we had in downtown back in the '90s," recalling the era of Yab Yum and Go Lounge. "We're trying to reconnect to that, and the open door is a big piece of that."

My night downtown continued right around the corner, where Florida Theatrical Association presents Adam Rapp's Tony Award-nominated drama The Sound Inside through April 30 inside Orlando Fringe's ArtSpace (54 W. Church St., orlandofringe.org). Rebecca Fisher stars as Bella, a socially isolated college professor in the midst of a personal health crisis, who develops an inappropriately intimate connection with Christopher (Logan Lopez) a promising but perplexing creative writing student.

I'll spare you any spoilerish details about the story's tragically inevitable O'Henry-esque twists, but suffice to say you should heed my trigger warning about self-harm. Fisher, long one of my favorite Orlando actors, is at her peak here, delivering Rapp's monologues of dense prose with remarkably restrained intensity. Young Lopez goes toe-to-toe with her, with expertly underplayed internal emoting.

In fact, every element of this production — Daniel Cooksley's blank-canvas revolving set, painted by Amy Hadley's stark lighting and Josh Seyna's striking black-and-white projections; Rich Charron's haunting background score, and most especially Kenny Howard's reserved direction, which eschews his usual kineticism for static stage pictures — adds up to a uniquely chilling (and chilly) experience. With its challenging subject matter and unremitting emotional tension, I can't exactly suggest The Sound Inside as an evening of light entertainment. But even if I never quite warmed up to its icy protagonist, this show makes another compelling argument for serious arts-seeking adults to sound out Orlando's latest arrivals, and give downtown Orlando a proper chance.

In recent months, my column has been filled with farewells from Central Florida artists who are fleeing the state, and the news is full of depressing reports of lawmakers' latest moves — often, the reasons behind those artists' departures. This week, we take a break from the doom and gloom to chat with someone who isn't exiting Orlando, but rather doubling down on bringing new theatrical stories to life here year-round.

It's been nearly a year since Live Active Cultures last looked in on playwright/director Michael Knight, whose alcohol-soaked original comedy Gothic Manor was a big hit for producer Aaron Safer's New Generation Theatrical last Halloween. This week, the pair return to the Abbey with Jesus: Origins, a theology-themed superhero spoof that Knight swears isn't half as blasphemous as it sounds.

A native of central Michigan who says he's always been a storyteller, Michael Knight started working summer jobs at Orlando's theme parks in 2008. He says, "I fell in love with Orlando because I noticed that ... it's a huge entertainment hub: full of theater, full of theme parks, full of creative people. We celebrate drag shows, we celebrate people dancing, we celebrate all sorts of different stuff here in Orlando, and it was a place unlike where I grew up. I really wanted to be here: not New York, not L.A. I wanted to be here."

Knight mounted his first original script at the Orlando Fringe over a decade ago, and scored early success with The Fourplay and Anne Frankenstein. That latter, taboo-breaking hit drew Safer to collaborate with him by commissioning a script; the result was Zombie Island, or How to Survive a Wedding With Your Ex, which proved to be the first step in their ongoing partnership. Knight praises Safer as a modern-day businessman who is "really great about being able to fuel the fire and throw logs on it to keep creativity flowing."

Running April 13-23 is the debut of the duo's latest provocative genre-bender, which fills in the New Testament's "lost years" between Jesus's 13th and 30th birthdays with a comic book–style backstory. Somewhat surprisingly, Knight is not rebelling against some fundamentalist upbringing — he's a secular Protestant whose new play was prompted by watching The Star, a largely forgotten animated film about the Nativity. "I was not a very religious person," admits Knight, "and I wanted to write something that spoke to me, but also was able to [comment] on what I see religion doing."

The plot of Jesus: Origins sees Jesus (Josh Melendez) dealing with his helicopter mom, Mary (Hannah Lemasters), and absentee dad (Robie Phillips) while learning to wield his supernatural powers for good. Despite that irreverent-sounding summary, Knight insists the play is not a send-up of religion, adding that he's focus-tested an audio recording of the script on several religious friends and family. "Everyone says this is a great show for people of faith [who] are not afraid, because what it does is it makes Jesus the hero that He is."

Top Stories

After being sued, Gov. DeSantis calls Disney lawsuit ‘political’ and without ‘merit’

As a result, Knight says, "[I] can't imagine that anyone who claims to be a Christian, or claims to have love for Jesus and love for their fellow man, would see the show and think that we've done something to Jesus that is disrespectful." Even so, in his view, Jesus is "not here to make sure that drag queens don't exist; He's not here to keep guns in your hand. He's here to save you, to help you. To offer hope and compassion to people who don't have a lot of money, to people who are hungry, to people who are generally rejected by society. That's what Jesus stands for."

In the current political climate, Knight knows his show could potentially attract protest, but he says he's not afraid of that. "Frankly, we haven't gotten as much as I want [because] anytime controversy surrounds something, people want to know what it's about."

After Jesus: Origins ascends, New Gen has a full season of productions ahead, including Shakespeare's Twelfth Night (June 8-17) at the Orlando Repertory Theatre, and the Broadway musicals Spring Awakening (July 21-22) and Next to Normal (Sept. 21-Oct. 1) at the Abbey. Safer is also continuing his commitment to new works, presenting Joshua Harmon's Significant Other in August and Knight's Gothic Tavern in November. The follow-up to Gothic Manor won't continue its plot or carry over characters, but rather transplant the action to Sleepy Hollow for a drunken dive into the mystery of Washington Irving's Headless Horseman.

"People really loved it," says Knight of their original Gothic show, "and they seem to glom onto the characters. ... People want to come out and have an experience beyond just turning their brain off." Giving Orlando more year-round opportunities for the kind of original experiences that Knight first discovered at Fringe is exactly what he says New Gen is all about.

Finally, even though Knight feels strongly about the stories New Gen is sharing, he tries not take his art too seriously. "Sometimes heavy-handedness can be damaging and can drive people away," Knight observes. "There's heavy everywhere, but if we can also use those voices in a fun way to speak out against what's happening in the world — and specifically what's happening here in Florida — if we can do that with our art, then we can make Orlando a safe haven."

West Coast theme park fans have recently been enjoying a wave of new additions to Disneyland, ranging from a fantastic new fireworks show to a reimagined Toontown featuring an upgraded version of the Mickey & Minnie's Runaway Railway that originally debuted in Orlando. Meanwhile, Walt Disney World's 50th anniversary spectaculars have sputtered to an end and been replaced by throwbacks. But our local Mouse house has finally unveiled two long-awaited additions: the Magic Kingdom's fastest ride ever and a tasty expansion to Hollywood Studios.

Thanks to "soft opening" previews and swift reservations, I've already been able to test out both Tomorrowland's Tron Lightcycle/Run roller coaster and Toy Story Land's Roundup Rodeo BBQ restaurant. And although both are very welcome additions to Disney's lineup, both experiences were eerily similar: a solid start but unsatisfying center, which ultimately left me wondering "where's the beef?"

Tron Lightcycle/Run, a motorbike-styled coaster based on the cult-favorite 1982 sci-fi film (and its so-so sequel), officially launched at the Magic Kingdom on April 4, a mere 2,089 days after it was first announced. With a top speed of nearly 60 miles per hour and a 48-inch minimum height requirement, Tron pushes the thrill envelope for the park's kid-friendly demographic, and the curvilinear canopy its illuminated trains race around nicely complements the iconic modernist geometry of Space Mountain beside it.

In other words, Tron is easily the most attractive new "weenie" the Magic Kingdom has added since the now-closed Splash Mountain opened over 30 years ago. Unfortunately, in order to handle the crowds drawn to this new must-do destination, Disney is utilizing the same mandatory Virtual Queue system used at EPCOT's Guardians of the Galaxy: Cosmic Rewind coaster. Free "boarding group" reservations are available through WDW's smartphone app, but you'll need a Magic Kingdom park reservation, even for annual passholders once restrictions are eased after 2 p.m. on April 18. You'll also need a fast finger to successfully claim a VQ spot during the daily distributions at 7 a.m. and 1 p.m. sharp. Be warned: Unlike at Cosmic Rewind, Tron's cast members strictly enforce the Virtual Queue return times and will deny you entry if you miss your hour-long window.

Make it through all those hoops — or simply pony up $20-something for an Individual Lightning Lane pass before they sell out — and you can get digitized into the Game Grid. After a surprisingly sparse indoor queue, contestants stow their loose items in a double-sided locker (a first for Disney, following in the clawsteps of Universal's VelociCoaster) and attempt to straddle their side-by-side cycles.

Unlike the upright seating of Hagrid's motorbike coaster, these Vekoma-built cars require riders to lie prone on their chests, with restraint bars extending across the back of the knees; think Avatar's Flight of Passage, but even more awkward. First try the test seats (which double as photo ops) outside the entrance, because the position is extremely awkward. Riders unable to fit due to their calf size are relegated to using the standard seats found in the last row of select trains.

If you do manage to make it through that anti-ergonomic torture test, the initial high-speed launch into Tron's short outdoor section is certainly exhilarating, especially from the front cars. But as soon as you enter the indoor "gravity building," the rear rows get the best view of the special effects; from the front, you get an initial view of the blacklit course, but mostly miss the projected competitors trying to knock you off track. Without those visual treats, you're stuck on a ride riddled with stop-and-go block breaks, resulting in an experience that feels far slower and shorter than expected. And beware you don't accidentally stumble off the wrong side of your cycle when exiting, lest an attendant bark at you (as they did at me) in an unmagical manner.

Top Stories

Pegasus Music Festival brings promising UCF-area bands to downtown Orlando this weekend

Three days after my underwhelming inaugural ride on Tron, I had a parallel experience at Disney's Hollywood Studios. There, the elaborate Old West-themed area teased in early Toy Story Land concept art finally emerged in late March as Roundup Rodeo BBQ, an indoor eatery filled with stylized cutouts of Pixar pals. If you've ever wanted to dine inside the Midway Mania ride next door, this is the next best (or worst) thing.

Since Roundup Rodeo BBQ offers no costumed characters (other than the enthusiastic but overworked wait staff) or entertainment (aside from periodic short snippets of sound and light effects), the food has to be the star of the show. The family-style meal gets off to a strong start with warm cheddar biscuits and a trio of salads, including kale with apple and watermelon with mint. You also get your pick of several superb side dishes; standouts are the loaded tater tots, street corn on the cob and fried pickles.

Sadly, despite the exceptional opening and supporting acts, Roundup Rodeo disappointed with its 'cue headliners, thanks to an overwhelming "smoke" seasoning on the chicken and ribs that smelled unpleasantly like Spaceship Earth's burning Rome. The brisket was nicely marbled, but hadn't cooked low-and-slow enough to fully render the fat; only the coil of pork sausage yielded zero complaints.

The plant-based entree platter, on the other hand, was a big winner with harissa-roasted cauliflower, vegan bratwurst, and an Impossible "rib chop" that packed more umami than most of the carnivore's plate. For dessert, adults should pas on the pedestrian pie jars and pick the moist Forky cupcake off the kids menu.

Reservations for Roundup Rodeo are already hard to come by, since DHS has a dearth of good dining options, and $45 per adult (plus tax and tip) for all-you-can-eat is an excellent value by Disney standards. If you do saddle up for the Roundup Rodeo, I suggest you become vegetarian for the day, sneak in some gallon-sized Ziplocs (since doggie bags aren't provided for the mountains of leftovers) ... and be sure not to ride Tron right afterward.

Orlando Sings doesn't stage your typical choral recital of yesteryear. After witnessing their "Spirit of South America" performance last year, our immediate reaction was, "That actually rocked!"

Our ears and imagination were fully engaged from the first note to the last. This wasn't a stuffy academic-music vibe. It was alive, passionate and vibrant. The program mixed secular and sacred music that shimmered through the venue (First United Methodist Church of Orlando) like rays from a fine crystal. A core band featuring Timucua regulars, members of Ella and the Bossa Beat, and about 80 or so vocalists all conjured up cascades of beatific harmony that swept over the audience, brilliant and ethereal. The audience were transported to another place via the performers' deft arrangements.

One of Central Florida's newest cultural organizations, Orlando Sings Symphonic Chorus is now in their second year and coming out of the gates in 2023 with some rather script-flipping approaches to classic choral works.

For this spring season at Dr. Phillips' Steinmetz Hall, Orlando Sings on Thursday performs Handel's "Messiah," a masterpiece of melodic classical music that has stood the test of time with jazz and rock interpretations by the heady likes of Allen Toussaint, David Axelrod and Electric Light Orchestra, down through Saturday morning cartoons via Schoolhouse Rock — not to mention the occasional reggae cover and hip-hop sample.

What we have with Orlando Sings is on a level with what one would find in the cultural meccas around the world, which Orlando could very well become. The group's take on "Messiah" promises to dazzle the music-going public and confound the expectations of the throngs of new arts enthusiasts in search of cultural delights.

Director of Orange County Arts & Cultural Affairs Terry Olson — also a member of Orlando Sings — reflected to OW about what makes this chorus unique. "I have sung choruses from Handel's 'Messiah' before, but getting to sing with this high quality choir in the Steinmetz Hall with the Orlando Philharmonic is going to be incredible. Dr. Minear's understanding the story arc of the whole and how each part fits and how the music reflects the part of the story is so intense and personal. ... I get goosebumps."

As Olson alludes, the not-so-hidden secret of Orlando Sings' success is the infectious joy and groove that conductor — as well as Artistic & Executive Director — Dr. Andrew Minear brings to his collaborations with the 80-plus vocalists in the ensemble. Witnessing the rehearsals of the music being assembled for this program gave testimony, as Minear was bouncing and bopping along with a smile, eyes closed in euphoria or with an intense gaze of approval as the singers hit their marks. Minear issued the OK sign on cue time and again, like it was a dance move in time with the choir as they let forth a joyful noise that was immediately enrapturing, giving cause for ... yes, goosebumps.

Orlando Weekly reached out to Dr. Minear to get the inside line on these talented voices.

Tell us about the process of working on this program.

Top Stories

After being sued, Gov. DeSantis calls Disney lawsuit ‘political’ and without ‘merit’

It has been a thrill to make this incredible music come to life. The singers have really leaned into the visceral qualities of the music: Sometimes they dance with joy, at other times they are fiercely aggressive, and at other times stunningly sublime.

Everything you just mentioned goes through our imagination when we hear the Orlando Sings style of arranging the music.

When done right, "Messiah" can be quite dramatic! It is literally about life and death. We sing of hope, human frailty, suffering, scorn, sacrifice, judgment, joy and ultimately victory. It is truly amazing how this music brings the musicians and audience members through the full range of the human condition.

On the topic of the familiar parts of "Messiah," is the hit single, so to speak, the "Hallelujah Chorus"?

Some of "Messiah" is so popular that it has crossed over into popular culture, like the "Hallelujah Chorus," for example. Nevertheless, I hope our audience will experience it in a new way, as I am really interested in bringing a fresh and exciting new interpretation to the stage in the beautiful Steinmetz Hall.

From the pulpit to the dancefloor, "Messiah" is likely being played somewhere right now. It truly is a piece of music that crosses the aisles of secular and devotional; it means a lot of different things to a lot of different people.

I hope our audience will be moved and inspired. People of certain faith backgrounds may have a religious experience as they reflect on the story, while others will appreciate it more in a humanistic way: the stunning beauty and power of the human voice and art of music.

7:30 p.m., Thursday, March 30, Steinmetz Hall, Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts, drphillipscenter.org, $34.25-$84.25.

music@orlandoweekly.com

Will the last artist to leave Orlando please turn out the lights? In what's increasingly becoming a depressing trend, Orlando's creative community will soon suffer another significant loss when longtime theater producer Beth Marshall and her husband, Chris Foster, depart Central Florida for the Colorado mountains. Like her recently relocated friend Tod Kimbro (whose musical My Illustrious Wasteland was an early Beth Marshall presentation), she's headed west, and after nearly 30 years here, Marshall leaves behind a legacy far too long to list.

From her performances with Impacte Productions and Temenos Ensemble Theater to her tenure as Orlando Fringe's producing artistic director during its move to Loch Haven Park, and through her work on the annual Play in a Day and her "Trayvon Martin Project" series, Marshall's biggest impact has perhaps been in amplifying developing talents — such as Arius West, whose recent solo show at ArtSpace was her local producing swan song.

Part of why Orlando Weekly named "Dame" Beth Marshall one of the people we love (in the 2017 "People We Love" issue) is because she's never been at a loss for words. So I'll step aside and simply excerpt some parting advice from our recent exit interview over crudités and hummus at Stardust Video and Coffee:

In 1995, I came to visit a couple of friends who had just moved here. While here, I decided that I would go audition at the then-Civic Theatre, and I got cast in two shows. The first was A Christmas Carol and I was playing the charwoman; Alan Bruun was the director and Chad Lewis was the assistant director ... so that's where that's where it started. I have really good memories of everything at the Civic.

Back then, I remember being out on the lawn in Loch Haven with Chad Lewis, going, "I would love to have a festival here some day." When I first went to Fringe as a patron in '96, [Marshall's son] Darth was a baby. So I did not get to see tons of things, but I saw great children's theater, and I was like, "Oh my god, this is the kind of thing I would like my son to be exposed to."

The narrative of my Fringe story really begins when Heritage Square was where the beer tent was downtown, and Terry [Olson] had some kind of crisis that he had to go deal with, and he was running the beer tent and dealing with the festival. He's like, "Can you watch this for me?" We'd just met, I have never poured a beer in my life, and I do not even know what I'm doing. So my first introduction really was Terry in a crisis, and me going, "OK, I'll help."

After Fringe I made an early decision to do two things [as an independent producer] that really made all the difference, I think. One was that I wasn't going to go nonprofit, and that is a massive decision, and it was not an easy decision. That, and not having a physical plant — having a building — because what happens is: people, project or paycheck has to suffer. My deal always was going to be that I'm not going to deal with a building; that's not where the money is going to go, and I have no desire to be a landlord.

I only produced what I thought I could afford. I never said "I'm gonna have six to eight shows every season." I might have four shows, I might have eight shows. They might be one-off kind of things, smaller pop-up things, or they might be a big thing.

Top Stories

Pegasus Music Festival brings promising UCF-area bands to downtown Orlando this weekend

What I have been good at doing is, I'm good at asking people for money. And the reason I'm good at it is because I will just go, "here's my product." I have not created a body of work that always sells out. I've not pandered. I've created work that I've tried to keep quality balanced, [and] if you buy into that kind of boutique theater style, then I'm the artist for you.

I've always paid my staff well. I pay for loyalty. The longer you stay with me, the more money you're gonna make.

Honestly, I've never been one to obsess about money. There is a saying [about] "progress over perfection" and it is something I constantly work on. But quality still matters to me; I'm still old school in that regard. As much as I want to not be a "show must go on" kind of person, I know in my heart, I'm still a "show must go on" kind of person. This is not a good way to be, I'll be honest about it, and it's probably my kryptonite.

There's plenty of reasons to stay here. There are some great people here and inarguably, we have talent here ... so anybody who's creating art here, I would say, keep fighting. I mean, you can't stay here and not fight the fight. If you're going to stay here you have to fight it. If you get to the point that your well is not full enough to be able to fight it, you have to find a way to leave.

You've got to fight the fight, and you've got to donate the money. You've got to get out there and let your voice be heard. You've got to create art that matters, even if it's if it's not making you the most money, to try to change minds.