Surely that’s not actually true, or Shaun’s parents might have run away or strangled them by now.īut there is a sense that the melody, heard or unheard, never really stops. On the basis of “Keep Going,” you might almost believe that the Bengsons communicate in song all the time. That’s what music is, the Bengsons say, a blending of those opposed feelings into an ineffable, all-transcending whole. The usual prayers, Abigail sings, “just ain’t cuttin’ it,” before she and Shaun segue into a funky, propulsive chant: “I want money comin’ in and good things to happen.” Responses to such requests are not immediately forthcoming, of course.Įarly on, Abigail sings that she hopes if “your heart is breaking, it’s breaking open.” In other words, be receptive to everything, the pain and the joy, because it’s all part of the same indivisible package. The whole work is steeped in a kind of everyperson pantheism, with elements of Judeo-Christian and Eastern religions. “Keep Going” deals more directly with questions of faith than any made-for-streaming show I’ve encountered during the past five months. All of them deal with coming to terms with “the dark and the light of the world as it is.” She hopes we have lots of good television, adequate food and “enough good memories to last you a long time.” The numbers that follow embrace an account about Shaun’s distrust of churchgoing, an anatomy of lacerating grief and Abigail’s description of the sacred hallucinations that come with labor pains. They then shift into what feels like one sustained, shape-shifting song, of varied component parts, which seems to have no beginning or end.Ībigail offers a benediction. They begin the show, which was “mixed and mastered” by Ian Kagey, with a ritualistic sharing of challah bread and grape juice, proffered to us through the camera lens. For the Bengsons, it seems, everyday life is both a religious celebration and a passion play. The subjects covered as they address this concern, while playing keyboards and guitars (acoustic and electric), are both homey and cosmic, from financial shortages to the testing nature of God. So I was curious about the states of their hearts and minds in a year when the imminence of mortal disease is as pervasive as fog.Īs Abigail sings, in that wide-open balladeer’s voice of hers, “We have to make it up as we go.” That’s the general credo of this 50-minute piece, which is about nothing more nor less than continuing to exist when everything feels both static and in endless flux. That mostly all-sung show, delivered in a gutsy pop-folk style spliced with gospel laments and hallelujahs, was about how - or if - love can survive in the shadow of our awareness of death. But performing their musical memoir “Hundred Days,” about the dramatic genesis of their relationship, the Bengsons emanated the confiding coziness of late-night gab sessions over beers at a kitchen table. Not that I actually spoke to them or shook their hands (which was a socially sanctioned activity then). I had taken a shine to this eccentrically wholesome couple when I met them at the Public Theater’s Under the Radar Festival a few years ago. It’s called “The Keep Going Song,” and it streams through Oct. ![]() I was pleased, for instance, to receive an email about Abigail and Shaun Bengson, who have come up with a show of exultant ambivalence for the Actors Theater of Louisville. You get to learn where they’ve been sheltering in place, and how they might have been changed by this age of upheaval and displacement. Let’s face today with hope and know that it will never lead us astray.One bright pleasure amid the grimness of the pandemic has been the serendipity of hearing from people you’ve lost touch with and had forgotten how much you liked. Hope reminds us that tomorrow is another day. ![]() And I believe that love is stronger than death.” That laughter is the only cure for grief. ![]() That hope always triumphs over experience. That dreams are more powerful than facts. I quoted him when I was MC at my high school graduation.įulghum said, “I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. I always remember reading Robert Fulghum’s book All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten. If we are grateful for our journey, our mistakes, our loved ones and our struggles it transforms angst into peace. And how can we strengthen hope? With gratitude. It leads to inspiration and action and change. You really don’t have to be amazing, or fierce or beautiful or successful or good. Author and activist Glennon Doyle said, “Keep going.
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