by Bob Fischback
Omaha World Herald
July 16, 1999

"Session" is the story of Gideon (Cory Sanchez), a recording star who has tired of his battle with HIV and decides to record some songs for one last night - for his lover to hear after he has killed himself the next day.

If you're thinking rapid descent into maudlin sentimentality, think again.

What you get here are sharply defined, uniformly likable characters, and performers who all know how to belt out a number and embellish a melodic line. And they can act, too.

What you also get is a sense of reality in the words and situations. "Session's" music and lyrics were written by Steve Schalchlin, who lives with HIV. He began writing songs "when I was really ill. It was like therapy."

Jim Brochu, his partner of 14 years, urged him on. Schalchlin wrote songs about the doctor-insurance game, the war going on inside his body, the toll it all takes on relationships. After he had about six numbers, Brochu wrote a script. The show took off from there, earning honors on both coasts.

Schalchlin was raised a conservative Christian in Texas, and the clash between those values and the life he found himself living are reflected in the character of Buddy (Ryan McGuigan). He bursts into the recording studio a combination fresh-faced hick, Gideon groupie and hungry record-star wannabe, toting a Bible. He knows Gideon's every lyric.

What he doesn't know is that Gideon is gay. The knowledge leaves him unsure whether to walk, try to save Gideon's soul or swallow his beliefs long enough to further his music career.

Also in on the recording session, but not on Gideon's plan to off himself, are his friends, Vicki (D. Laureen Pickle), who could be Bette Midler's long lost sister, and Tryshia (Kathy Tyree), self-described diva who can't stand Vicki. They feed deliciously on each other's egos, dishing one-liners into a nine-course feast of feuding.

Tom Neumann, who plays a wisecracking guy in the recording booth, also has comedic timing down pat. His is the lone nonsinging part.

All four singers have the talent and material to knock you out. The result is that rare show that makes you laugh, makes you cry and invites you to think. Director Randy Stevens and musical director Rod Carlson, whose recorded keyboards are terrific, earn their stripes.

The only drawbacks here are the cramped space and an inadequate sound system that leaves voices straining at times to be heard in balance.

Schalchlin will be part of a discussion offered after each performance this weekend. Frankie Pane's seats only about 100, so get your tickets quick. The bar will be open at intermission, before and after the two-hour show.