Theater News

Going for Gone

Laura Bell Bundy takes country by storm on her new CD, Looking for a Place Already Gone. Plus: The lowdown on the High School Musical 2 soundtrack.

Laura Bell Bundy
(© Joseph Marzullo/Retna)
Laura Bell Bundy
(© Joseph Marzullo/Retna)

As it turns out, the theater has barely shown us what Legally Blonde leading lady Laura Bell Bundy can do. On Longing for a Place Already Gone, the album she co-wrote and co-produced under the name Laura Bell, she proves she has the chops to be a serious country star, nailing everything from rockabilly to Dixie-flavored pop.

For the star’s many fans, the record’s most striking surprise may be her voice. She trades the pristine, carefully enunciated style of musical theater for a passionate mix of growls, moans, and slurred phrases. In other words, she sounds like a bona fide country singer, not some actor playing dress-up.

Still, she’s definitely trying on personas. Working with writer-producer Larson Paine — who should be revered for writing the 1980s cult hit “Johnny, Are You Queer?”– Laura might sound like a Patsy Cline-era crooner for one track (“Fallin'”), then dabble in redneck rock like she’s Gretchen Wilson (“Good Genes.”) In “Designated Drunk,” she even tips her cowboy hat to show tunes, ending with a saucy monologue about the cops hauling off her boozed-up boyfriend.

For some listeners, this stylistic free-for-all will be exhausting. And a couple of the album’s experiments don’t work. In “The ‘C’ Word,” for instance, she tries too hard to be coy as she makes double entendres about chocolate (“I like it hard, I like it sweet”), and the song’s lounge-singer arrangement is a snooze. And even though the ballad “Just Pretend That You Love Me” mimics country legend Dottie West, it’s too mannered to achieve her haunting passion.

Fortunately, songs like “Fool Moon” balance the misfires. Coloring her voice with the slightest quaver, Laura sings about lonely people trying to find love. The music underneath her rollicks at a mid-tempo pace, and the contrast of the rhythm with her mournful delivery makes the song heartbreaking: It’s like the sound of pretending to be happy.

By the time she gets to “Lovin’ and Lyin’,” Laura totally embraces suffering. Her lyrics tackle a timeless problem — a woman loves two men at the same time — and her supple vocal is arresting. In the opening verse, she whispers to her secret lover (“Do they notice?”) with clutched-throat emotion, only to end the chorus with a wailing high note. The acoustic version, included as a hidden track, emphasizes her journey from guilt to total devastation. I think “Lovin’ and Lyin'” would sound great on the radio, but “Just Me,” a sing-along ode to loving yourself, may be the likeliest candidate for a single. As sunny as one of Dolly Parton’s upbeat hits, it has an infectious chorus that demands to be put on repeat.

Then there’s that potential club smash, “Dancing With Myself.” A techno-bluegrass cover of a Billy Idol classic might sound unwise, but she yodels (!) with so much confidence –and the drum track is so catchy — that the song could start a party (maybe even a party at a sorority house). Perhaps Laura will sing it at the Cutting Room on October 2 and 9.

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Sometimes I wish there was a pop culture version of the “do not call” list that keeps telemarketers off my phone. I could avoid the news about Lindsay Lohan and remain ignorant of athletes who sponsor dogfights. Best of all, I could never, ever hear about Disney’s High School Musical again.

I’m not wishing bad luck on this seemingly unstoppable franchise; it seems to be having a positive effect on the world, and I hope it continues to introduce young people to musical theater, broker détente between jocks and geeks, and find every little orphan a home. I just don’t want to hear about it.

I especially don’t want to hear the soundtrack to High School Musical 2 again. Because, you guys, it’s just not good. Sure, it’s not terrible, but the score is deficient in all the ways that make me crazy. For starters, I know Timbaland can’t produce everything, but couldn’t someone make these songs sound even slightly inventive? If you pushed a button on your Casio keyboard that said “Early 90s Michael Jackson,” you would get a less derivative beat than the one used in the athletes-versus-artists number “I Don’t Dance.” And did composer Jamie Houston actually play a Casio on the love duet “You Are the Music in Me?” Because that’s how processed the opening measures sound.

Lyrically, the disasters are even more awesome. In “Work It Out,” the kids complain about their crappy jobs by singing the following: “I needed Benjamins, but this ain’t worth the stress. Maybe there’s a better way to fix this greasy mess.” A word like “Benjamins” cannot sound genuine in an aggressively wholesome Disney movie. Like a principal calling an honor student her “homey,” it only exposes unhipness and desperation. And besides, didn’t people stop talking about “Benjamins” in 1999?

People certainly still talk about designer shopping, and that’s why “Fabulous,” bad-girl Sharpay’s ode to brand names, makes me battiest of all. It’s lazy songwriting to churn out another ditty about a woman’s devotion to Prada, and it’s also lazy dramatic writing. Why should I care about a character who echoes everyone from Breathless Mahoney to Cruella De Vil? Haven’t I seen enough of this archetype?

Well, yes I have. But no doubt, there are plenty of people in the world who haven’t. I wish them all a delicious romp with Sharpay and the gang.