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Franklin’s fumble

New album finds ‘woman falling’ with bad songs, dated production

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So why not re-shoot your album cover after you lost 85 pounds? Alas the cover of Aretha Franklin's new album is but one of many mysteries surrounding the soul legend. (Photo courtesy of Wal-Mart)

It’s painful when a long-awaited album from a much-loved artist finally appears and is a disaster.

The pain is especially acute on Aretha Franklin’s new album, the Wal-Mart exclusive “A Woman Falling Out of Love.” Rumors swirled wildly last fall that she had pancreatic cancer — Rolling Stone even went to press with the news citing anonymous Franklin family members. So it’s a delight and huge relief to see a much trimmer Aretha — she lost about 85 pounds — back on the media circuit, looking healthier than she has in years and rescheduling concerts she postponed last year during her mystery illness (she plays Wolf Trap June 21).

What a sweet coda to the story if “Woman Falling” had been a solid, career-punctuating comeback on a par with her last good album, 1998’s “A Rose is Still a Rose.” Sadly, it’s her worst album in ages joining schlock like “Almighty Fire,” “You,” “Sweet Passion” and “Get it Right” as some of the least compelling junk in her vast discography.

Aside from the fact that she’s healthy and, based on last week’s TV promo appearances, in reasonably good voice, the good news is that the album is out at all. She was predicting an imminent release as far back as 2006 when she first mentioned the title to Billboard. It was so unfathomably delayed, it became almost a joke, sort of R&B’s answer to “Chinese Democracy,” the decade-in-the-making Guns n’ Roses album that finally saw release in 2008. Despite being active on the touring circuit, Franklin’s studio output ground nearly to a halt in the last 10 years. There was an uneven Christmas album in 2008. Her last “real” album was 2003’s “So Damn Happy.” It felt hit-and-miss at the time; it plays like a masterpiece, though, compared to “Woman Falling.”

Franklin has boasted in interviews this new project finally gives her creative control. She sees this as a major plus — sadly, she’s probably the only one. Her career, despite all the critical acclaim, has always been spotty. For every “Think,” “Freeway of Love” or “Chain of Fools,” there’ve been dozens of mediocre album tracks that fail to resonate. Because her early years at Atlantic were so smoldering and her voice has lasted, Franklin always managed a staggering level of acclaim considering how much junk there is on many of her records.

But left to her own devices, Franklin stumbles badly here churning out an inconsistent and all-over-the-map sonic mess that struggles to muster even one catchy hook or chorus. “This You Should Know” (which she both wrote and produced), “Put it Back Together Again,” “When 2 Become One” and first single “How Long I’ve Been Waiting” sink like quicksand in a soggy stew of momentum-sapping and dated-sounding R&B drivel.

Franklin, thankfully, sounds great. Her voice — while not quite the rafter raising feat of nature it was 30 years ago — still has a luster and sheen that’s delightful to hear. In a way, though, it makes this album doubly tragic — with better material, it’s obvious Franklin possesses the vocal wherewithal to have produced a home run.

The covers are hit and miss, but two of the three are the record’s high points. A sassy, bluesy cover of B.B. King’s “Sweet Sixteen” promises early hope but proves an isolated and fleeting moment. A duet with an oddly uncredited Ronald Isley on “The Way We Were” is sweeping and feels positively glorious compared to everything else. “A Summer Place,” the theme from the 1959 film of the same title, doesn’t fare nearly as well. An oddball outro dialogue with an uncredited male guest is embarrassing, cheesy and weird.

The insipd “New Day” sounds like a promising change of pace initially with its deep bassline but soon dissolves into trite lyrics (“you can make it if you try!”). “Faithful,” a duet with gospel’s Karen Clark-Sheard is so ludicrously oversung it makes Christina Aguilera sound reserved.

And despite a Billy Preston-caliber organ accompaniment courtesy of Darrell Houston, “His Eye is On the Sparrow” shows merely that Franklin’s son Eddie, singing lead here, inherited his mother’s range but not her interpretive finesse. She accompanies him on piano. It gives the album warmth, but since Aretha’s never recorded this standard herself, I’d have much rather heard her sing it.

The album closes with a bombastic rendition of “My Country Tis of Thee,” which Franklin sang at Obama’s inauguration. She battled the cold that day — here she battles an overwrought orchestration (her own arrangement) that never met a musical cliché (rumbling timpani!, gospel choir on caffeine!) that it didn’t try to work in.

Franklin said she cut tracks with Faith Hill, Shirley Caesar and several producers for this album but they’re all MIA. It’s impossible to know how much was recorded over the last five years for this album but considering what made the final cut, one shudders to imagine the outtakes. From the amateur photography and packaging to the dubious selections and bland production, this is a near-total disaster.

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Theater

‘Hand to God’ showcases actors and their puppets

Luke Hartwood serves as designer, coach for Keegan production

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Luke Hartwood in ‘Hand to God’ at Keegan Theatre. (Photo by Kodie Storey)

‘Hand to God’
Feb. 1-March 2
Keegan Theatre
1742 Church St., N.W.
$49-$59
Keegantheatre.org

Luke Hartwood has loved puppets for as long as he can remember. 

At 24, he’s indulging his passion as puppet designer/coach and properties designer for Keegan Theatre’s production of Robert Askins’ “Hand to God.” It’s the Tony-nominated comedy about meek Jason who after the death of his father finds an outlet for his anxiety at the Christian Puppet Ministry in small town Texas.

Puppets begin as a design team collaboration, Hartwood explains, and move on from there. With “Hand to God,” the playwright’s notes describe Jason’s badly behaved puppet Tyrone as looking “Elmo-y and shit,” but beyond that there’s room for some interpretation. 

Hartwood, who is gay and Asian American, graduated from George Mason University in May 2023. He majored in theater with a double concentration in performance and design/technology, and minored in graphic design. 

“With all my varied interests that’s what made sense to me,” he says. “It wasn’t easy but now I’m a flexible candidate when interviewing for work. I’m skilled in design and the physical fabrication of puppets. And I also act.”

Based in Northern Virginia, he’s been with his partner for six years. Recently, Hartwood shared his thoughts on puppetry and what he wants from the future. 

WASHINGTON BLADE: What’s the attraction to puppets?

LUKE HARTWOOD:  I’ve always loved puppets. It started as a kid watching cartoons, I’d pause the TV get out a sheet of paper and draw a character, usually Pokémon and Digimon. I learned to use shapes, rounded or sharp edges depending if I wanted to make it cute or scary. I moved from 2-D to 3-D using cereal boxes to give dimension to the drawings. Once I carved a character into the wood of my mom’s sideboard. She wasn’t happy.

BLADE: Were puppets your way into theater? 

HARTWOOD: Not exactly. Despite some fear, I started acting when I was a sophomore in high school. I was a shy kid, but I wanted to be in theater. With me, I also brought my love of art and soon began working on props. It wasn’t unusual to see me in costume backstage between scenes building props. 

BLADE: And you continued in college?

HARTWOOD: Mine was the dreaded COVID college experience and the creation of Zoom theater. When we finally came back to live theater, my stage fright returned too. But I got past that and acted in “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown” [Hartwood was cast as the titular blockhead]. It’s a low-tech show; I did cutouts in the style of Peanuts characters. That was fun. 

BLADE:  With “Hand to God” at Keegan you’re really multitasking. Tell me a little bit about working with actors. 

HARTWOOD:  During casting, the actors were asked to bring a sock to use as a puppet. Not to show expertise but to prove some potential. 

Actor Drew Sharpe plays both Jason and his puppet Tyrone throughout the show; it’s like patting your head and rubbing your tummy at the same time. 

We start with basics. But then we retrain the way an actor thinks about a puppet. Not only is he marking up his script with his own blocking and intentions, but he’s also doing the same thing for his puppet. It’s playing two roles simultaneously. I’m in awe of how quickly Drew has learned and improved over the last few weeks.

BLADE: Does being queer affect your project choices? 

HARTWOOD: I try to incorporate my queerness into theater. For a while I didn’t know how to do that. I’m not writing plays or activist pieces, but I’m selective of what shows I do. I like to dedicate time to shows I care about, particularly those involving the queer and POC communities. Sometimes that means working with a smaller theater and not getting paid as much.

BLADE: Is money a concern? 

HARTWOOD: I recently quit my full-time corporate job as a business analyst at a government contracting company to focus fully on theater. If I’m going to spend 40 hours of my week doing something I better love it. 

I was picturing myself in 10, 20, or 30 years. If I push my artistry now, there’s more time for me to become successful or to get my big break. 

Also, I just graduated from bartending school. That should help pay the bills. 

BLADE: How does “Hand to God” jibe with your professional ethos? 

HARTWOOD: Really well. Though not explicitly written for the queer community or POC, it explores grief, toxic masculinity and what it means to be “man enough.” And that resonates with a lot of queer folks. 

And, I’m definitely here for the puppets 

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Books

Telling the Randy Shilts story

Remembering the book that made America pay attention to AIDS

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(Book cover image courtesy Chicago Review Press)

‘When the Band Played On’
By Michael G. Lee
c.2025, Chicago Review Press
$30/282 pages

You spent most of your early career playing second fiddle.

But now you’ve got the baton, and a story to tell that people aren’t going to want to hear, though it’s essential that they face the music. They must know what’s happening. As in the new book “When the Band Played On” by Michael G. Lee, this time, it’s personal.

Born in 1951 in small-town Iowa, Randy Shilts was his alcoholic, abusive mother’s third of six sons. Frustrated, drunk, she reportedly beat Shilts almost daily when he was young; she also called him a “sissy,” which “seemed to follow Randy everywhere.”

Perhaps because of the abuse, Shilts had to “teach himself social graces,” developing “adultlike impassiveness” and “biting sarcasm,” traits that featured strongly as he matured and became a writer. He was exploring his sexuality then, learning “the subtleties of sexual communication,” while sleeping with women before fully coming out as gay to friends.

Nearing his 21st birthday, Shilts moved to Oregon to attend college and to “allow myself love.” There, he became somewhat of an activist before leaving San Francisco to fully pursue journalism, focusing on stories of gay life that were “mostly unknown to anyone outside of gay culture.”

He would bounce between Oregon and California several times, though he never lost sight of his writing career and, through it, his activism. In both states, Shilts reported on gay life, until he was well known to national readers and gay influencers. After San Francisco supervisor Harvey Milk was assassinated, he was tapped to write Milk’s biography.

By 1982, Shilts was in love, had a book under his belt, a radio gig, and a regular byline in a national publication reporting “on the GRID beat,” an acronym later changed to AIDS. He was even under contract to write a second book.

But Shilts was careless. Just once, careless.

“In hindsight,” says Lee, “… it was likely the night when Randy crossed the line, becoming more a part of the pandemic than just another worried bystander.”

Perhaps not surprisingly, there are two distinct audiences for “When the Band Played On.” One type of reader will remember the AIDS crisis and the seminal book about it. The other is too young to remember it, but needs to know Randy Shilts’s place in its history.

The journey may be different, but the result is the same: author Michael G. Lee tells a complicated, still-controversial story of Shilts and the book that made America pay attention, and it’s edgy for modern eyes. Lee clearly shows why Shilts had fans and haters, why Shilts was who he was, and Lee keeps some mystery in the tale. Shilts had the knowledge to keep himself safe but he apparently didn’t, and readers are left to wonder why. There’s uncomfortable tension in that, and a lot of hypothetical thinking to be had.

For scholars of gay history, this is an essential book to read. Also, for anyone too young to remember AIDS as it was, “When the Band Played On” hits the right note.

The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.

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Out & About

2025 is the year to prioritize LGBTQ wellness

Community center hosts workshop ‘prioritizing self-care & community care’

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The DC LGBTQ+ Community Center will host “Prioritizing Self-Care & Community Care in 2025 Workshop” on Wednesday, Jan. 22 at 7 p.m.

This will be an engaging conversation about how to prioritize self-care and community care in the upcoming year. This one-hour workshop will be facilitated by Program Director & Psychotherapist Jocelyn Jacoby. This workshop is designed to be a place where LGBTQ people can be in community with each other as the community grapples with fear and hope and comes up with practical ways to promote resiliency.

Registration for this event is mandatory and can be accessed on the DC Center’s website

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