Idiocy Taken to New Heights

by Lance Mercantile, Editor-in-Chief

Last weekend our fair school was subjected to the torment of The Hedge, the new rock opera by Abysmal Crucifix frontman Girth McDürchstein. Unfortunately, due to the mysterious absence of his back-up band, McDürchstein managed to fail spectacularly on every single level: story, structure, music, acting, singing, dancing...the list goes on and on. He even went limp halfway through his sexual encounter with the prostitute, billed in the program as "The Hired Companion."

The story is, to borrow an adjective from his band's name, abysmal. Actually, perhaps I have overstepped my analytical abilities, because I'm not even sure what the story was about. The lyrics are nonsensical, most notably on the centerpiece "The Love Song of Gregor Samsa" during Act II, and the story makes about as much sense as a screen door on a submarine. As a side note, the structure is also a dreadful mess, which could perhaps explain my inability to comprehend the basic plot.

The Harcourt Bell Choir, notorious for being perhaps the worst excuse for music in eastern Pennsylvania, now has a rival: Girth McDürchstein's semi-competent heavy metal score, which borders on avant-garde at times but is still almost always saturated with predictable chord progressions and poorly played guitar solos. This could be partially attributed to the lack of skill possessed by McDürchstein's backup band, which for once is not Abysmal Crucifix, and it shows. They are reminiscent of the Mothers of Invention band on early Frank Zappa records — they're okay, but they could benefit from a few (or, in this case, many) lessons.

While on the subject of music, I need to touch on his singing. McDürchstein's vocals when performing live have always been sub-par. He does not have studio trickery to easily repair bad notes or hold out notes for longer periods of time than his lungs are capable. It is a pity to say that the normally versatile McDürchstein is hindered severely by his inability to choke out a note for longer than three bars without coughing for six.

And who gave this man the impression he can act? This is perhaps the worst performance I've seen in any play, musical, opera, or just anything I've ever seen in my three years at Harcourt Community. The only thing worse than McDürchstein's acting is his dancing — and why is there even dancing? The controversial "Skullfucking Infants Estampie," which isn't even on the album version of The Hedge, displays perhaps the worst choreography I have seen in a professional stage show, and it was completely gratuitous. Two lines of lyric could have shown us the same thing as this twenty-three minute dream ballet sequence.

Overall, this show was pitifully conceived and even more pitifully executed. It's a shame that longtime indie thrasher McDürchstein has willingly lowered himself to the bottom of the barrel.

Before I bid you adieu for another week, I must also mention as a sidenote the basis for this material. A diary called El Laberinto de los Diablos, written by teen suicide victim José Barrenechea, has been required reading in most advanced psychology courses for years. My girlfriend (and psych major), Bonnie, insisted I read the journal after she was assigned it in a class. I must say that Girth McDürchstein's willingness to hide behind this diary as source material is one of the most cowardly acts, and something completely unexpected by those who have seen his antics before. Apparently the green-eyed monster has made contact with Mr. McDürchstein, and his greedy dreams of wealth and power go beyond an honest and truthful work like that of Barrenechea.

Reprinted from the Harcourt (Pennsylvania) Community College Rag, Tuesday, February 17, 2004