Arts & Entertainment
A melodic farewell
Locals lament closure of Dupont Circle record shop
Suzy and Jack Menase, owners of Melody Record Shop. (Blade photo by Michael Key)
With the rising popularity of downloading music from places like iTunes and online stores like Amazon, more and more record stores are closing, surrendering to the convenience of not having to leave the house to get both new and old albums.
Melody Records, an institution in Dupont Circle since the late ‘70s, is just another casualty in that unfortunate trend. Local gays are lamenting its impending closure. It was always popular with Blade readers — it won several “Best of Gay D.C.” awards in the early ‘00s, which still hang in the store above the new releases.
“Melody Records was one of my first discoveries when I moved to D.C. more than 11 years ago,” Michael Collins, a gay D.C. resident, says. “I stopped there about once a week, sometimes more often than that, and I seldom left empty handed.”
The owners, Suzy and Jack Menase, opened the store in 1977 before moving to Dupont two years later after having to vacate their previous location on E Street when developers wanted to redevelop the area.
“We just found Dupont Circle to be a busy area and thought it would be a good location for us,” Suzy Menase says.
They’ve been in the business so long, they’ve always tried to stay on top of things, and seen all the trends come and go, then come again.
“It’s been like a full circle. We started with vinyl and now we’re ending with vinyl,” Suzy says. “It’s neat to see young kids coming in … they’re not excited about CDs but they’re excited about vinyl.”
“I think the sound quality that they heard made it very attractive,” Jack Menase says.
The store has always held a wide selection of genres, including large sections of seemingly less popular genres such as opera, new age and more.
“The opera queens would squeal while the uber cool disco boys looked for the German imports of what would later be called ‘industrial’ in the specialty bins,” says Stephen Yasko, general manager of WTMD 89.7 in Baltimore.
The Menases have always worked to make sure they have a full selection with a little bit of something for everyone.
“If we don’t have it in stock, we order it for them,” Jack Menase says.
“With CDs, if you can’t sell something, you can return it,” Suzy says. “It’s not one person deciding what we carry.”
The Menases announced they were closing through a letter on their website, saying, “technology, the internet and the economy has taken its toll.”
“In the past two or three years, sales have been declining … we saw it coming, but we were just trying to hold on,” Suzy says. “We have such a strong, loyal customer base, we wanted to stay as long as possible.”
They both remember a time when there was an abundance of record stores in the D.C. area that all survived until the early 90s.
“One by one, everybody closed down,” Jack says.
Being in Dupont, the store automatically became a favorite spot for gay customers.
“Where else could you run across a copy of Ethel Merman’s disco album from the ’70s?” Collins says.
Also, Lambda Rising — a gay bookstore and staple of Dupont Circle — used to be next door.
“We were very sorry to see them go,” Jack says.
“Whoever came to them, whoever came to us went to them,” Suzy says. “They were great neighbors to have.”
Some music lovers continued to purchase CDs — at least in some genres — even into the digital music era.
“I loved Melody,” says Kevin Lees, a gay Washington resident. “I still typically buy classical and sometimes jazz in physical CD format for the copious liner notes and anytime I was looking for something in particular, I would always look at Melody first as my contribution to local stores in the face of Amazon. I’m surprised it lasted so long and that it outlasted Lambda Rising but sadly, the record store is clearly destined to be a thing of the past.”
There are a few members of the staff who have been working at the store for years, including a few who have been around for more than 10 years.
There are a lot of people who have been going to the store for years and some are even on a first-name basis with the Menases.
“They know my whole family and I know theirs,” Suzy says. “It’s not customers, they’re family.”
“I was heartbroken when I saw the going-out-of-business sign on the window,” Collins says. “What a regrettable loss for Dupont Circle and for all Washington music lovers.”
The shop is at 1623 Connecticut Ave., N.W. No firm closing date has been set. For now, it’s open seven days a week from 11 a.m. to 8 p.m.
Arts & Entertainment
In an act of artistic defiance, Baltimore Center Stage stays focused on DEI
‘Maybe it’s a triple-down’
By LESLIE GRAY STREETER | I’m always tickled when people complain about artists “going political.” The inherent nature of art, of creation and free expression, is political. This becomes obvious when entire governments try to threaten it out of existence, like in 2025, when the brand-new presidential administration demanded organizations halt so-called diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) programming or risk federal funding.
Baltimore Center Stage’s response? A resounding and hearty “Nah.” A year later, they’re still doubling down on diversity.
“Maybe it’s a triple-down,” said Ken-Matt Martin, the theater’s producing director, chuckling.
The rest of this article can be found on the Baltimore Banner’s website.
‘La Lucci’
By Susan Lucci with Laura Morton
c.2026, Blackstone Publishing
$29.99/196 pages
They’re among the world’s greatest love stories.
You know them well: Marc Antony and Cleopatra. Abelard and Heloise. Phoebe and Langley. Cliff and Nina. Jesse and Angie, Opal and Palmer, Palmer and Daisy, Tad and Dixie. Now read “La Lucci” by Susan Lucci, with Laura Morton, and you might also think of Susan and Helmut.
When she was a very small girl, Susan Lucci loved to perform. Also when she was young, she learned that words have power. She vowed to use them for good for the rest of her life.
Her parents, she says, were supportive and her family, loving. Because of her Italian heritage, she was “ethnic looking” but Lucci’s mother was careful to point out dark-haired beauties on TV and elsewhere, giving Lucci a foundation of confidence.
That’s just one of the things for which Lucci says she’s grateful. In fact, she says, “Prayers of gratitude are how I begin and end each day.”
She is particularly grateful for becoming a mother to her two adult children, and to the doctors who saved her son’s life when he was a newborn.
Lucci writes about gratitude for her long career. She was a keystone character on TV’s “All My Children,” and she learned a lot from older actors on the show, and from Agnes Nixon, the creator of it. She says she still keeps in touch with many of her former costars.
She is thankful for her mother’s caretakers, who stepped in when dementia struck. Grateful for more doctors, who did heart-saving work when Lucci had a clogged artery. Grateful for friends, opportunities, life, grandchildren, and a career that continues.
And she’s grateful for the love she shared with her husband, Helmut Huber, who died nearly four years ago. Grateful for the chance to grieve, to heal, and to continue.
And yet, she says of her husband: “He was never timid, but I know he was afraid at the end, and that kills me down to my soul.”
“It’s been 15 years since Erica Kane and I parted ways,” says author Susan Lucci (with Laura Morton), and she says that people still approach her to confirm or deny rumors of the show’s resurrection. There’s still no answer to that here (sorry, fans), but what you’ll find inside “La Lucci” is still exceptionally generous.
If this book were just filled with stories, you’d like it just fine. If it was only about Lucci’s faith and her gratitude – words that happen to appear very frequently here – you’d still like reading it. But Lucci tells her stories of family, children and “All My Children,” while also offering help to couples who’ve endured miscarriage, women who’ve had heart problems, and widow(ers) who are spinning and need the kindness of someone who’s lived loss, too.
These are the other things you’ll find in “La Lucci,” in a voice you’ll hear in your head, if you spent your lunch hours glued to the TV back in the day. It’s a comfortable, fun read for fans. It’s a story you’ll love.
The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.
Theater
Minimal version of ‘Streetcar Named Desire’ heading to Dupont Underground
Director Nick Westrate on this traveling take on Williams’s masterwork
‘A Streetcar Named Desire’
Produced by The Streetcar Project
April 20-May 4
Dupont Underground
19 Dupont Circle, N.W.
Tickets start at $85.
Dupontunderground.org
An aggressively minimal version of Tennessee Williams’s “A Streetcar Named Desire” is poised to run at Dupont Underground (April 20-May 4), the nonprofit cultural space located in a repurposed, abandoned 1949 streetcar station beneath Dupont Circle.
The Streetcar Project’s production performs in site-specific spaces. It’s almost entirely without design elements. There is no steamy, cramped Vieux Carré apartment. You won’t see Blanche’s battered trunk exploding with cheap finery, faded love letters, and demands for back property taxes, or the familiar costumes.
Co-created by Lucy Owen (who stars as Blanche DuBois) and out director Nick Westrate in 2023, this traveling spare take on Williams’s masterwork about a fragile woman on the margins in conflict with her brutish brother-in-law seems a reaction to necessity. It’s also an exploration of whether, like Shakespeare’s “Henry V,” it can subsist on language alone.
With little distractions (even Blanche’s cultivated southern belle accent has been daringly stripped away), the spotlight shines almost solely on text. “This play holds that,” says Westrate, 42. “I remind the actors that the while there is plenty of movement, language is really the only game in town.”
New York-based Westrate, who’s best known as an esteemed actor with New York and regional credits including Prior Walter in János Szász’s production of “Angels in America” at Arena Stage, describes “Streetcar” as “the most perfect play on earth” but not one he thinks of acting in (“I’m not right for Stanley Kowalski or Mitch”) though he agreed to direct.
“These days if you’re not a not a movie star or an established director, you’re not likely to do “Streetcar.” So, for us, we have to be able to do it with almost nothing, on the New York subway if necessary. And that’s kind of how we built it.”
Westrate first experienced Dupont Underground while attending a staged reading. He was so obsessed with the space as a prospective place to take the production, he found it hard to concentrate. He says, “With its long, curved track and tunnel, Dupont Underground is a terrifying, beautiful room that carries so much metaphorical weight, so much possibility for our production.”
WASHINGTON BLADE: Is finding the right space for this “Streetcar” part of the thrill?
NICK WESTRATE: Whenever I enter a weird room or pass by an abandoned CVS, I try to figure out how we might do the show there, especially places that are dilapidated, architecturally odd, or possibly haunted. And each space we use, lends something to the production. The Rachel Comey store in Soho was a very Blanche coded space. And an artist’s workshop on Venice Beach in California with its huge saws and metal hooks lent raw imagery. The scenes between Blanche and Stanley near the end were absolutely terrifying.
BLADE: More recently that same bare bones production has played in more traditional spaces like the Wheeler Opera House in Aspen and San Francisco’s A.C.T. Is it hard to now go to Dupont Underground?
WESTRATE: Each time we do this we have to crack open the play again because the staging is entirely new, but we’re used to performing in unusual spaces and Dupont Underground rather takes us back to form. As a former streetcar station, it’s the most appropriate space we’ve had yet.
The cast will literally act on streetcar tracks and go without dressing rooms but they’re game, and because they have history and authorship over the work, the sacrifice is more meaningful than if they were just some hired guns.
BLADE: Audiences have an expectation, especially with a work they’re likely to know. How do they react seeing such an unadorned take on Williams’s American classic?
WESTRATE: For the first 10 or 15 minutes, they’re unsure. Then, you can pretty much see the audience members’ brains click in and their imaginations turn on. It’s like they’re scratching an itch that they didn’t even know they had.
BLADE: Did you and Lucy foresee gaining this kind of momentum behind your vision?
WESTRATE: Absolutely not. Lucy had a philosophy that we’ll just walk through open doors. Early on, we were given spaces and artists filled the seats, and increasingly we’ve begun to rent some spaces and attract more regular theatergoers.
We basically sell tickets in order to pay a living wage to artists involved. There isn’t some big institution or commercial producer who’s getting a lot of money from this. Audiences of all types seem to respond to this mode of making theater.
BLADE: In presenting “Streetcar” intermittently, usually with the same cast over three years in wildly varying venues, have you learned more about a piece that you already loved?
WESTRATE: Mostly I’ve come to realize that Blanche is the smartest character I’ve ever read in a play. She’s like Hamlet – tormented by dreams and terrified of death. She’s skilled at wordplay and always ahead of everyone else in the room. Also like Hamlet, people think she’s insane and she uses that to her advantage.
Blanche is certainly the Everest of roles for actresses and watching Lucy sort of break it apart in a different way than you’ve ever seen, and knowing that I’ve helped to facilitate this performance has been one of the great joys of my career.
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