8 LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE 3.15

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“Let It Be” — the gospel version in Across the

Universe. It plays during a scene that parallels

two funerals: one of a boy caught up in

the ’67 Detroit riot and one of a Vietnam

soldier. My eyes well up every time I hear

Carol Woods sing, “I wake up to the sound

of music.”

Mary Chellis Austin

Deputy editor

I do not jibe with musical theater. All the

heaving diaphragms, dainty dance routines

and faces strained with emotion — be it joy

or anguish — freezing for applause at the

end of a number? It’s just not for me. But

the 1965 movie adaption of Rodgers and

Hammerstein’s The Sound of Music thrills

me. It’s my favorite flm. I adore nuns, so

that partially explains my obsession. (I’ve

been on The Sound of Music tour in Austria.)

Plus, there’s a delightful innocence to kids in

lederhosen. And that Julie Andrews has the

voice of a goddess. When she and the von

Trapp Family Singers perform “Edelweiss”

before feeing the country, I’m a weepy mess.

That high note she hits at the end? It’s Pav-

lovian. My hands wipe tear after tear.

Anne Marshall

Senior writer

Being a country fan (I’ll admit it), a lot of songs

make me cry. The frst one that comes to mind is

“Don’t Take the Girl,” by Tim McGraw. It’s about

this boy and girl who meet as eight-year-olds, then

grow up and fall in love. At the end, the girl dies

giving birth to their baby. Doesn’t get much sadder

than that.

Amy Talbott

Special publications editor

That anthem to self-pity: “Alone Again (Naturally),”

by Gilbert O’Sullivan. It was my dad’s favorite song. 

Jenni Laidman

Writer at large

The instrumental “Telstar," by the Tornados, just

rips me up. Incredible sadness, possibly tied to the

Cuban Missile Crisis.

Jack Welch

Copy editor

Duke Ellington and John Coltrane playing “In a

Sentimental Mood.” The frst phrase whispers

through Coltrane’s upper register. Shouldn’t

project myself onto the music, but it makes me

think like this: The mailbox squeaks closed. A letter

from a lost friend. You feel the tangle of handwrit-

ing indentations on your fngertips. Then a gust of

wind sucks the letter skyward. You’ll never read

it, never know more than a memory of touch. But

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now it twirls above. Now its black ink

fades with distance, and the page, the

bright white whole, fies stark against

blue. It looks like God has scratched a

little tear in the wallpaper sky.

Dylon Jones

Associate editor

“Goodbye My Lover,” by James Blunt.

I saw him performing it on Oprah

quite some time ago. Goosebumps. I

think Oprah even shed a tear.

Emily Douglas

Advertising account executive

The hymn “Come Thou Fount of

Every Blessing.” Because each time

I hear it, I transport to a wooden

church pew beside my granny, my

legs swinging free, my hand in hers.

Elizabeth Myers

Editor, Louisville.com

When I was four, we lived in Denver,

Colorado, and the family car was a

Chevette. Some of you may remem-

ber this compact, low-horsepower

go-kart of a car. It couldn’t make it up

the Denver mountainsides with four

in tow. The day we traded it in for a

new VW, we listened to John Den-

ver’s greatest hits on the way home

from the dealership. I missed the car

already and started to cry; then my

me. It’s more than a year later, and the

song still makes me sad. It’s a year later,

and I still don’t know if I know how to

deal with death. It’s a year later, but I

always thought that I’d see you again.

Michelle Eigenheer

Executive assistant

Lately, “Cat’s in the Cradle.”

Phillip M. Bailey

Columnist

“Landslide,” by Fleetwood Mac. Con-

fronting the themes of time passing, life

changing and love gets me every time. 

Mariah Douglas

Editorial intern

If I’m looking for a one-way ticket to sob

city, I’ll put on Leona Naess’ self-ti-

tled album. If I make it to “Star Signs”

without crying or searching for an old

bottle of Xanax, I turn on the Cranber-

ries’ “Zombie,” because I’ve decided

to embrace the heartless/dead-inside

method of coping.

Jaren Cooley

Editorial intern

Lee Ann Womack’s “I Hope You Dance.”

For a parent, this song is everything you

will ever want to say to your child.

Kevlen Goodner

Illustrator

brother was crying, and soon the

whole family was a blubbering mess. I

still cry when I hear “Follow Me.”

Suki Anderson

Art director

The four worst songs of all time:

“Family Affair,” by Mary J. Blige; “Cot-

ton Eye Joe,” by Rednex (with an x!);

“Get the Party Started,” by P!NK (hey,

P!NK, you think you’re the Yum! Cen-

ter or something?); and, of course,

Buckcherry’s “Crazy Bitch.” Hate

tears. But really: “One Sweet Day,” by

Boyz II Men and Mariah Carey. And

“Falling Slowly” from the movie Once.

And that one Adele song.

Josh Moss

Editor

I woke up on New Year’s Day 2014

to a text message that said, “(Great)

Uncle Jim passed away this morning.”

I’d made it 21 years without having

anyone I know die. Two weeks later,

my mom’s father died and, in one fell

swoop, I had lost both of my grandfa-

ther fgures. 

I was too old for anyone to sit me

down and tell me how to cope with

death, so I had to fgure it out myself.

I stumbled across Birdy’s cover of

“Fire and Rain” (originally by James

Taylor), and somehow, that did it for

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Sometimes I wonder if I should even

be here. What if I were tumble-weed-

ing the great U.S. of A. and beyond

with a lover or a tambourine? On

an anywhere street corner belting

“Everything Is Free” in the tune of Ben

Sollee (me sans cello)? I’d forget all

those who hit the big score, and I’d live

on nothing, need nothing, except me:

open-eyed and -hearted. Passing that

sentiment on, I’d belt: If there’s some-

thing that you want to hear, yeah, you

can sing it yourself. So much freedom

in possibility. I’m lucky, I know this, but

I tear in the moments I remember I’m

bound.

Arielle Christian

Associate editor

“Seasons in the Sun,” by Terry Jacks.

Because the stars they could reach

were just starfsh on the beach and

everybody pretty much dies by the

time the song is over.

Jon Lee Cope

Contributing editor

“Last Kiss,” by Pearl Jam. I have to

change the station every time it comes

on to stop myself from being in com-

plete hysterics.

Mandy Wood

Advertising account executive

LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE 3.15 123

artsthe

bits

My

Method

Playing

the

Triangle

It looks simple enough: a

three-sided equilateral triangle,

open at one corner. Terry

O’Mahoney takes a clip and

threads its loop of fshing line

through the open corner and up

one of the sides until it reaches

the top angle, freeing the instru-

ment from his hand. He switches

the clip to his left hand, his thumb and index fnger

pinching the clip and the three other fngers ready

to silence or steady the instrument and ward off any

unruly spinning. With a beater, he strikes the tri-

angle’s base, dead center, then hits the upper-right

outside. Completely different sounds. He can mute

it by quickly squeezing the instrument, can rattle the

beater in the corner to execute a “triangle roll.” For

a little something extra, he’ll hang the triangle from

two clips, take a beater in both hands.

At 54, O’Mahoney, president of the Louisville

Federation of Musicians, has been a percussionist

for 35 years. His dozen or so triangles (he bought

one at a Brazilian fea market) vary in alloy (brass

and gold, for instance) and size (four to 12 inches

on a side). O’Mahoney says that, as a sixth-grader, “I

was fascinated by different sounds, and triangle was

one of those sounds available as a percussionist.”

What else does he play? “Oh, boy,” he says. “I’ll try

to put them into groups for you: mallet keyboards,

hand-percussion, timpani, drum set….” With the

triangle, he says, “You’re the only one doing it. If you

play at the wrong time, everyone knows who did it.

You’re one on a part.”

When O’Mahoney gets a call to play triangle,

whether for the Louisville Orchestra or, say, Sym-

phony Nova Scotia, he studies, studies, studies. The

sheet music denotes the exact time he should play,

but pitch and note length are his call. “You make

some artistic decisions based on the quality of the

piece, the acoustics of the room, how far you are

from the rest of the musicians, and the tonality of

the piece,” he says. “None of that is printed — all that

is what you learn to do. You learn to adapt to the

situation.” For each piece, he will test three or four

triangles to get the “proper dynamic.” He says the

triangle needs to add “sparkle and shimmer.”

— Mariah Douglas

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124 LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE 3.15

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One Question

Behind the Scenes

A Spoonful

of Practice

brazeiros.com

Playwright Charles Mee, 76,

wrote The Glory of the World,

inspired by the 100th birthday

of Thomas Merton, the late

Kentucky-based monk. It will

premiere at Actors Theatre

as part of the 39th Humana

Festival of New American Plays,

March 4 - April 12. This is Mee’s

sixth Humana Festival play

and his ffth collaboration with

director Les Waters.

What was the frst play you ever wrote?

“I wrote my frst play when I was fve years old,

coming home from the playground, thinking:

When he said that

I should have said THIS.

And then when he said THAT

I could have said THIS!

And that’s the way I wrote plays until, when I was

13, my mother took me to see South Pacifc in

Chicago. And there was a moment in South Pacifc

where a guy who had a sailing ship tattooed on his

stomach did a belly dance, so that the ship rocked

on the waves. And I thought: I want to do that!

And so, ever since, I have written plays that are a

combination of text and music and movement.”

Rehearsal is in full swing

on this winter Sunday

afternoon. Four of the

47 students in the Mary

Poppins cast form a

semi-circle at center

stage, scripts in hand.

Downstage, hand on chin,

stands Robbie Steiner,

director of theater arts at

Floyd Central High School

in Floyds Knobs, Indiana.

He pauses the actors,

takes Mary Poppins’ place

and walks three steps to

his left, repeating her line.

“And on that line,” Steiner

says, “you’ll be fying to

the chimneys.” Mary Pop-

pins scribbles notes in her

script and nods.

At this point, seven

weeks from show time,

the set is minimal. Actors

use two black chairs to

block the scene. Bare

wooden platforms and

fats are stacked against

the black back wall. Soon,

two technical theater

classes will transform the

blankness into London,

including the rooftop for

Bert, Mary, the children

and the chimney sweeps

to dance on. They’ll also

design the park, which

is dark and dingy until

whimsy settles in and

the scene changes to a

vibrant, fashy cartoon

world. For Mary Poppins,

Floyd Central’s theater

department (Stage Di-

rections Magazine named

it best in the Midwest

in 2013) has partnered

with Louisville-based ZFX

Flying Effects, which will

make Mary and Bert fy.

“Bert needs to fip upside

down,” Steiner says. “And

Mary will be about 30

feet in the air.” Supercal-

ifragilisticexpialidocious.

(Had to.)

Check out Mary Pop-

pins at Floyd Central 7:30

p.m. March 6 & 7 and 13

& 14, and 2 p.m. March

8 & 15.

— MD