For any parent who may fear Broadway will turn their child gay, Kevin Meaney has an answer: “absolutely.”
At least that’s been his experience. Well, sort of.
“It’s kind of like everybody’s just gay on Broadway, so we just kind of shrug and say, ‘OK. Let’s celebrate,” he says.
Meaney, a 52-year-old actor and stand-up comedian, is playing the Arlington Cinema ‘N’ Drafthouse tonight and Saturday. He got his break on Johnny Carson and has parlayed that into an acting career that most recently found him ending a five-year stint in “Hairspray” on Broadway.
He’s kidding a bit on the Broadway stuff, though working on the Great White Way was what prompted Meaney to come out last year (though he’d gradually been coming out to his family, friends and “Hairspray” colleagues for a few years before).
“I always knew I was gay, I just didn’t know how to express it,” Meaney says. “I knew from the time I was a kid when everybody starts getting girlfriends, I thought, ‘I don’t want to have to do that.’ … I was totally miserable.”
The White Plains, N.Y., native, who now lives in Manhattan, says his family was supportive, which was a pleasant surprise.
“My mother said, ‘That makes sense — you were always answering the door.’ I said, ‘What does that have to do with anything,’ and she said, ‘I don’t know but you were always answering the door.’”
Meaney’s mother gets referenced often in his stand-up act — check out his old routines and “Tonight Show” appearances on YouTube.
Meaney was married twice. He’s somewhat bummed a 36-hour Las Vegas marriage to his first wife didn’t work out because he liked the idea of her name — Jeannie Meaney. He later married Mary Ann, which lasted much longer and resulted in his 9-year-old daughter. For the last two years, he’s been in a same-sex relationship with Casey, a guy he met on “Hairspray.”
“I really love the theater,” Meaney says. “It’s the happiest place on Earth. I would have done it another five years.”
Meaney played “male authority figure” in the musical, which encompassed five parts. He knew several other parts and even went on once as Edna, the part Harvey Fierstein immortalized on stage. Meaney joined the show in Toronto and didn’t work with Fierstein until the gravelly voiced gay actor rejoined the show for its last hurrah (it closed Jan. 4), though he had worked briefly with Fierstein in the ’80s. Meaney guesses the cast and crew were 50/50 gay versus straight.
Meaney says standup is “20 times harder” than acting. “It looks easy with the good ones, but go watch the bad ones sometime. It takes a lot of confidence … if they’re not laughing for five minutes, you’ve lost them.”
Now that “Hairspray” is over and the economy is in the toilet, Meaney says he is “certainly worried” about his career.
“On the other hand I’m playing the Arlington Cinema ‘n’ Draft-house, I mean, my God, of course I’m not worried since I’m playing such a high profile place like the Arlington Cinema ‘n’ Drafthouse. Actually it’s not so bad. Some of these comedy clubs have such stupid names like Bonkers or Hoo-Hoos or Bozo’s or Bananas. At least I won’t be embarrassed to go cash the check from Arlington Cinema ‘n’ Drafthouse.”
Meaney remembers his “Tonight Show” appearances, and, of course Carson, fondly.
“Say, you’re a funny guy,” Meaney says, slipping into Carson’s voice without hesitation, remembering what Carson said to him.
“It was a different era. Johnny was this guy from the ’60s with that martini mentality. They had this little bar on wheels like a hot dog stand they wheeled around backstage and they’d ask you, ‘Hey, want a drink before you go on?’ It was so different.”
In stark contrast to Meaney is lesbian singer/songwriter Sonia Rutstein, who only uses her first name professionally and matches Meaney’s wit quotient with her own levels of earnestness. The Baltimore native — who still lives in Charm City when she’s not touring — plays the Barns at Wolf Trap Wednesday.
“It’s a wonderful roller coaster,” she says of her life, about 75 percent of which she spends touring. “I’m very happy going around the world and playing my music. I’m quite amazed that I’m able to do it.”
Sonia, a lesbian who married her partner of 12 years, Terry, in California in October (when same-sex marriage was briefly legal there), is a veteran of between 50 and 100 Pride festivals, she guesses. She’s been playing and singing professionally for about 20 years, many with her band, Disappear Fear, an evolving unit that will appear with her Wednesday.
It started with her sister, Cindy, who’s straight and eventually left to raise a family in Seattle, and continues to evolve.
That’s become a “marketing disaster,” Sonia says, especially at iTunes, where her music can be found under Sonia, Sonia of Disappear Fear, Sonia and Disappear Fear or just Disappear Fear. The confusion is matched, she says, by a mainstream music industry that “doesn’t really know where to put me.”
Though much more accessible than Ani DiFranco, Sonia has some of DiFranco’s indie/hippie/quirky sensibilities. Vocally and stylistically, she’s like a slightly less polished Sophie B. Hawkins.
She’s also musically eclectic. Sonia says those who check out Wednesday’s show can expect a set list that darts all through her career and may even include a song or two she hasn’t released yet — she’s working on a blues album and might include a couple numbers from it in the concert.
Sonia’s latest album, “Splash,” is a great sample for newbies. It features several tracks from her last two albums — one live, another infused with world beats and sensibilities — and also has a couple new cuts.
“It’s kind of a hodgepodge/compilation-type CD,” she says.