JHENE ERWIN’S DOG IN THE MANGER
Review by: Lisa Zugschwerdt
In a society that increasingly thrives on cultural alienation and voyeurism, the idea of developing a sense of empathy by exploring the common roots of human tragedy, loss, and addiction is not only an innovation, it’s a radical anomaly -- and it’s going on right here in Hollywood, CA.
Chances are, you haven’t experienced the musings of a different kind of “triple threat” -- L.A. based poet/singer/composer Jhene Erwin. I’ve been fortunate enough to witness the evolution of her show, “Dog in the Manger,” from a thought-provoking, if somewhat inhibited, one-woman show, to a more subtle, stripped down, and devastatingly evocative effort.
As much as I enjoy Erwin’s solo performances, the show borders on multi-layered thematic virtuosity when accompanied by percussionist Colin Gray. The interplay between the tragic lyrical content, sequenced background (painstakingly arranged, produced, and engineered by Erwin, herself), and the skin-on-skin intimacy of Gray’s bongo accompaniment is so beautifully complex as to elude proper description -- how does one describe a show whose songs, medium, and theme blur the distinction between lyrics and poetry, the electronic and the organic, voyeurism and experience?
Once you’ve seen Dog in the Manger, it’s not surprising to learn that Erwin has a background in acting – she pretty much channels the souls of the flawed street-walkers who roam the terrain of each song like it was a stretch of Santa Monica Blvd. One is struck by Erwin’s haunting intensity as her demeanor shifts seamlessly from the self-deprecating pill-popper in “He Doesn’t Know How Old I Feel” to the sardonic seductress in “I Loved You;” from the sultry, detached heroine junky who unapologetically narrates her own story in 3rd person on “Blue” to the angry, shrieking, ramblings of a woman over the edge in “Not the First Time. At the close of each song Erwin stands solitary at center stage, her cropped hair tousled and illuminated in a red haze, staring into the audience with a defiant complexity that would give Sybil chills.
With her beauty and striking presence, one can’t help but wonder what a woman like Erwin, who exudes such personal radiance, could possibly know of such tragedy. I suppose the artist herself answers this question in the autobiographical final verses of “Family Tree:”
Now every time I see someone
and I find myself thanking god it’s not me --
I…look in their eyes and I remember the rings
of our family tree.
In the end, we’re left with the realization that these characters are
desperate to feel something, and to be healed -- and with the
lingering suspicion that perhaps as a culture, we may have more in common with these women than we’d like to admit.
For more information on Jhene Erwin as well as upcoming show and booking information, please visit her website at www.jheneerwin.net.
