In theory, it was just a record release party for Hedwig and the Angry Inch, the original cast recording of the critically acclaimed off-Broadway rock opera. The evening would also mark the passing of the torch from original Hedwig John Cameron Mitchell (who wrote the text as well as played the lead) to Michael Cerveris, the understudy who was about to take over the starring role of an East German transsexual rock goddess and victim of a frighteningly botched sex-change operation. That's all the fans came for, really. What they got, however, was one of those rare live moments that freeze-frame in the mind's eye, an explosive slice of high-glam theatrics and pure rock & roll bliss.

The anticipation could be felt to the far corners of the industry-heavy VIP areas upstairs. But when Cheater, the band that backs Hedwig at the Jane Street Theater under the nom de plume the Angry Inch, took to the stage and performed three alt-pop tunes that sounded little like the Seventies-era guitar anthems they play in the show, the tension quickly turned to blissed-out sways and cheers. Frontman Steve Trask, who writes the music for both Hedwig and Cheater, put on a deft performance, but it wasn't until after the first intermission that the audience really sank their teeth in.

As soon as the mythical, "internationally ignored" Eastern Bloc star paraded onstage, a sea of fans crashed into the stage. Ripping through "Tear Me Down," the crowd cheerfully sang along while Cameron's Hedwig acted out everyone's rock-star fantasies: kneeling before the phallic guitar, crawling on all fours and diving into the audience. It was undiluted rock & roll theater, pure and extraordinary drama. Audience enthusiasm dipped a bit during the segue into "Random Number Generation" (sung by Miriam Shor as Yizhak, Hedwig's transsexual sidekick), as well as during the Trask-sung "The Long Grift." But the momentum didn't falter for long.

Punk-rock princess Joan Jett took over the stage with a half-time rendition of Gary Glitter's "Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah)," which featured the Blackheart rocker trading verses with Cameron and Shor. The 700-plus-capacity room expanded into a stadium. Fists shot into the air and hips swung to the "my my my"s. In all her feminine aggression, Jett charged the audience and thrust them back to the early days of punk, when over-the-top characters like Hedwig and Jett were the order of the day. With her six string slung low, she played backup guitar and vocals on "Angry Inch" as Hedwig stroked his body and sang "six inches forward and five inches back" with an overblown vigor that would've done Bowie and Queen proud.

As Jett made a quiet exit, Cerveris entered stage left, dressed in the requisite diva garb, and joined Mitchell for a duet version of the anthemic show-closer, "Midnight Radio." The dual Hedwigs were powerful enough to somehow overshadow the intensity of Jett's performance as they symbolically transferred the Hedwig role. When they sang "lift up your hands," an ocean of arms rose like the crest of a wave and rolled to the beat.

Both Hedwigs exited and re-entered the stage for an encore, during which they staged an impromptu karaoke session with hundreds of participants for "Wig in a Box." For their finale, the identical characters grasped each other and sang "Origin of Love," which bases its lyrics on the speech of Aristophanes in Plato's Symposium, positing that every human is split in half and is eternally in search of the missing piece. Seeing the two Hedwigs together, grasping each other, the speechless audience seemed to witness the discovery of that other half. After the song ended, it took a few minutes for them to pull out of the moment and remember to applaud. As Hedwig says in her opening monologue of the play, it was a night to remember, that night.

HEIDI SHERMAN
(February 22, 1999)