Angst and alienation seem to be the hallmarks of Generation Y (or, as some have oh-so-wittily dubbed it, Generation Why?). After all, this generation came of age just as a “War on Terror” began with no clear explanation as to how one can battle an emotion; as cell phones and iPods taught people to simultaneously, and impossibly, stay both constantly connected and isolated; and as they emerged from college to find few worthwhile jobs available for their level of education. Small wonder that they’re jaded. Small wonder that they’re angry.
And perhaps it is somewhat telling that one of the foremost Gen Y composers’ newest works is entitled
Things to Ruin, which is now running at Second Stage after runs at Joe’s Pub and the now-defunct Zipper Room. At 27, Joe Iconis speaks for his generation with a snarky, caustic and bitterly intelligent voice that perfectly captures the emotions of the times, and if this song cycle seems rather harsh and critical, it is powerfully honest. Using raging rock and introspective ballads, and under John Simpkins’ energetic direction, Things to Ruin is a collection of songs for a new century and a new generation—for better or for worse.
The show begins with the aptly named “The Cicada Song,” an ode to the intense lives of the young with a repeated theme of “I got lots of things to do” and “I was born this morning, gonna die tonight.” Every day may well be our last; relationships may end, or at least prove less fulfilling than we hope; and the future seems more uncertain than ever. These unnerving themes dominate Things to Ruin, as does the theme of alcohol: There’s “The Whiskey Song,” “The Bar Song” and the driving, frustrated “Everybody’s at the Bar Without Me” (sung with intense passion by Badia Farha). People are looking for both escape and connection, and the bar scenes (in both the real and stage worlds) offer both; like many others, Iconis captures that mood quite well. “Son of a Gun,” smartly sung by Eric William Morris, also examines the fears and uncertainties that come with connecting to other people.
The bitterly nihilistic “War Song,” performed with chilling gusto by Lance Rubin, aptly demonstrates the post-Vietnam generation’s perceptions of war and warfare. Iconis himself, from upstage at the piano, sings the cheerfully sarcastic “Guide to Success,” in which he mocks sell-outs and hypocrites. Sarah Glendening, Katrina Rose Dideriksen and Farha bring the right amount of desperation and hope to “Head Shot,” a song as much about actors hoping for success as it is about young people searching for quick solutions to insurmountable problems.
But not every aspect of Things to Ruin is so jaded. There is also the sweet and endearing “Nerd Love,” and the awkwardly lovely “Asleep on my Arm,” about a man literally trapped by his girlfriend but unwilling to disturb her for his own comfort (Nick Blaermire’s facial expressions during the song are priceless, and his singing is quite nice). “Helen,” about a young man learning what became of a high-school friend, is hilarious and surprisingly poignant at the same time. Jennifer Warner’s smart and sexy choreography contributes nicely to the number’s many emotions, and Jason “Sweettooth” Williams’ conflicted performance in the number is spot-on. (William’s rendition of “Dodge Ball” is one of the show’s most emotionally devastating, and nicely shows the singer’s range as an actor.)
In the finale of the show, the cast announces at The Audience that they’ve never seen hell that’s as fresh as theirs, and they’ve never heard nothing like this shit here. The homage to Dorothy Parker notwithstanding, the attitude seems lifted right from Hair and Rent and every other musical that celebrated youth movements. The defiant anger of Things to Ruin may not be to every audience member’s taste, but the emotional impact of the cycle hits where it needs to.
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