#program notes

“In these dangerous times, where it seems the world is ripping apart at the seams, we can all learn how to survive from those who stare death squarely in the face every day.” —Jonathan Larson

Three weeks after composer William Finn won two Tony Awards, he collapsed while crossing 45th Street and began, for better or worse, a new chapter in his life and career. He was hospitalized, eventually diagnosed with an arteriovenous malformation (AVM), and began accepting that he was in his final days. He recalls, “All I could think about…were the songs I had planned to write but hadn’t finally written. The pain of not having written those songs was enormous.” It was from this pain, perhaps the sharpest and deepest pain possible for someone whose life is defined by their music, A New Brain was born.

In A New Brain, Finn and librettist James Lapine make minimal effort to conceal the autobiographical elements of the story. Our hero, Gordon Schwinn, a composer, finds himself diagnosed with an AVM, mourns all of his yet unwritten music (“I have so many songs”), and learns to look his mortality in the eye, just like Finn himself. Many of the characters are based on real people in Finn’s life, ranging in prominence from Gordon’s mother and boyfriend to a homeless lady keen on offering counsel.

Director Patrick Schweigert has described A New Brain as a piece about second chances, about survival in the face of seemingly insurmountable challenges. Gordon seems to suffer from some kind of anxiety, as evidenced in his behavior towards his mother, towards Roger, and towards himself. He’ll swing back and forth from an acidic curtness to self-deprecating humility in a matter of minutes. The same was true for the young Finn—a piece in the New York Times describes his “quick temper, blazing eyes, brash self-assertion, roaring ego.” Finn himself attests to this: “I had always felt either superior or inferior, outside normal interaction.” In the musical, after Schwinn leaves the hospital, he’s granted a chance to start over, not to mention a new outlook on the world (“All gone is incredible strife…”). This change—this “new brain”—was mirrored both in Finn’s life and writing. Reflecting on this sudden change, Finn says, “…I was no longer afraid to say simple things simply…to let a song flow directly from the heart is harder. I don’t know that I could have achieved this in earlier days.”

Gordon’s story is more than just one of physical survival, of course, but also one about artistic survival. After he collapses, his focus shifts quickly on his career: “All the songs I never wrote/ Fizzle and remain.” He earns his living in the arts, and it’s through the arts that he makes sense of the world around him, even to the point of describing his books as his “history.” As the song goes, “You gotta have heart and music.” He finds his heart, his humanity, through his music.

Finn survived his bout with death. Not only that, but in writing this show, he essentially canonized his own life. He lives forever. The songs that chronicle his life and his trials have entered the pantheon of the American musical, and in them, we as the audience recognize ourselves—our insecurities, our passions, our flaws, our victories. We bear witness.

On behalf of the team behind A New Brain, thank you for bearing witness.