Like a drum kit being hurled down a flight of stairs by a rock star, Keith Moon: The Real Me, a new one-person show written by and starring Mick Berry, has its sublime moments. Chiefly these occur when Berry, who has several one-person performances to his credit and is the author of The Drummer’s Bible, is sitting behind a pair of bass drums and an array of cymbals and toms, channeling The Who’s legendary drummer, who died in 1978 of an overdose of prescription drugs.
Let’s be clear about one thing: Berry is a great drummer, and he nails Moon’s multi-layered, off-the-beat style on songs from “I Can’t Explain” and “My Generation” to “Bargain” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” The problem is that Berry’s play also requires him to act, inhabiting the personas of not just Moon but also Who guitarist and songwriter Pete Townshend, Moon’s long-suffering assistant Dougal Butler and, in one particularly cringe-inducing scene, Moon’s mom.
Alas, despite Berry’s experience on the stage, acting is not his strength, just as singing was not Moon’s. And like his subject, Berry has been poorly served by those who should have been looking out for him, in this case director Bobby Weinapple, who permits Berry to mug, mince and indicate his way through a series of maudlin monologues and pointless anecdotes that confirm all the clichés about Moon’s well-documented antics but tell us little about why rock’s greatest drummer was so self destructive. Keith Moon: The Real Me? More like Keith Moon: The Caricature.
The show begins promisingly as Berry and his on-stage bandmates (Ric Wilson on Pete Townshend guitar and Roger Daltrey vocals; Jesse Scott on John Entwistle bass and backing vocals; and Jef Labes on keyboards and backing vocals) launch into “Baba O’Riley.” For those of us who have listened to that song perhaps as many times as Moon actually played it, Berry’s drumming will not disappoint, but then Berry begins to act, which, in the middle of “Baba O’Riley” means spinning his drumsticks between his fingers. Moon could effortlessly perform this parlor trick when drugged almost to the point of catatonia, but Berry struggles to pull it off, causing him to completely miss some of the song’s signature cymbal crashes. Throughout the rest of the evening, Berry would attempt the trick again and again during the play’s eight or nine numbers, and each time it would distract him, and us.