Playwright: Ronan Marra At: Signal Ensemble at the Raven Complex, 6157 N. Clark. Phone: 773-347-1350; $20. Runs through: June 6
Whether you know who Brian Jones is depends on how old you were during the British Invasion of the 1960s, when the Rolling Stones ( second only to the Beatles in popularity ) were comprised of the smoldering-sensual Mick Jagger, the menacing-intense Keith Richards, the enigmatic-insular Bill Wyman, the silent saurian Charlie Watts and the pale, patrician, and after 1969, dead, Brian Jones. And now, nearly half a century later, Signal Ensemble author/director Ronan Marra explores the mysterious decline and still-unresolvedsuicide? murder? transmigration?of this shadowy pioneer in a saga defining the rock-and-roll lifestyle to this day.
Ironically, the legendary combo's first casualty was its creator. It was Jones who, in 1962, scoured London for sidemen versed in American Rhythm-and-Blues, who championed exotic musical styles ( a phenomenon nowadays known as "world music" ) , and whose delicate features placed him in the foreground of publicity photos. It was also Jones who was gradually edged out of the spotlight by the professional manager hired for their first U.S. tour, Jones whose moods grew increasingly volatile following experiments with hallucinogenics and other then-unfamiliar substances, and Jones who was discovered one night at the bottom of his swimming pool, presumably drowned.
The play sharing its title with the album released just after Jones' untimely end is not a road-to-success pageant on the order of The Buddy Holly Story or the Black Ensemble docudramas. The action mostly occurs in the studio or backstage, far from the hoards of shrieking fans, where a scruffy band of brothers tentatively essay their first steps in a 40-years-and-counting career for the survivors. But neither does Marra's snapshot gallery mimic VH1's "Behind the Music" series. First-person narration by our deceased hero alternates with scenes depicting significant moments in his progress toward destruction, along with re-enactments of the songs marking chronological signposts.
Like any project proposing to offer analytic insight into pop-culture dynamics, Aftermath could have easily degenerated into a nostalgic tribute-band weepfest. But much care has gone into this production, from Elise Kauzlaric's spot-on dialects to the surprisingly period-authentic musical equipment. The performance skills of the cast led by Aaron Snook as our posthumous protagonist ( almost eclipsed, now as then, by Nick Vidal's fuller-bodied vocals as a feline Jagger ) likewise invoke the spirit, if not always the letter, of their personae to deliver an experience rewarding for audiences of, literally, all ages.