‘each and every’ Is Made of Star Stuff (Review)

Years ago, I found myself at a small gathering in the apartment of a new friend. Before long, I was scrolling through his iTunes library. He eventually walked over and asked, “So, are we still friends?” I laughed at his acknowledgement that music can bond or polarize. We reveal ourselves, sometimes intimately, through music.

I thought of that memory after experiencing each and every, the latest immersive offering from Candle House Collective. Subscribing to Candle House’s model of one-on-one experiences by way of a phone call, each and every is part of the “Etcetera Helpline” series, in which participants “volunteer” to help “callers” with problems or situations falling into “life’s inevitable ‘everything else’” category.

The show’s description includes minimal context: “Taylor has been thinking a lot about Pandora’s Box. On a separate note, they need your help making something special.” My pre-show email instructed me to examine my music library: “familiarize yourself with tunes that you love, or that mean a lot to you, or that you simply can’t get out of your head.” Shortly before showtime, I compiled a list of 20 songs.

(Major spoilers follow.)

Within the “Etcetera Helpline” series, the “volunteer” role sets the experience in motion after a melodic chime by asking, “How can I help you?” With claws, another Candle House production, the protagonist quickly exposed the urgency of his situation and how he needed my guidance. With each and every, Taylor responded to my query with, “So that’s how you say that confidently!” I immediately laughed at the facade of this performer-participant role reversal.

Our exchange identified Taylor as a “fellow volunteer” of the “Etcetera Helpline.” During their “time off,” they flipped the switch and called into the helpline to solicit support for a personal project. We talked about our shared helpline interactions and I integrated aspects of my claws call with a delighted wink. Throughout each and every, our conversation was a mix of genuine repartee and heartfelt confession, within the understood lanes of performance. And, as with any great performance, those demarcations occasionally blurred and I felt preserved in time, absorbed by this voice on the line.

From there, we dove into the myth of Pandora. The first mortal woman in Greek mythology, Pandora was created by Zeus and gifted a jar (the “box”) full of worldly evils and diseases. Out of curiosity, Pandora opened the box, allowing the ills inside to escape and wreak havoc. Even as Taylor revisited the myth, they imbued humor into the conversation. When describing the box’s atrocious contents, Taylor listed some standard ingredients: plagues, wars, corruption, deceit, and… Thursdays.

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Taylor then wove a tale of beloved friendship and Voyagers’ Golden Records. Launched into space on probes Voyager 1 and 2 in 1977, the Golden Records serve as phonographic time capsules. Humanity’s ultimate mixtape, each record is a 12-inch gold-plated copper disk engraved with selected sounds and images depicting life and culture on Earth. Taylor and I debated and bantered. How might alien life forms receive our message? Would the problem of false advertising present itself, since our earthly brochure was from 1977? And because the original Golden Record attempted to explain what and who we are, shouldn’t we follow up with what and how we feel?

Through Taylor’s childhood friend Luke, they had a personal connection to the Golden Record. And now, with Luke’s accidental death and both Voyagers in interstellar space, Taylor sought to create a sequel to the Golden Record, a playlist of music meant to embody humanity’s emotional identity. This is when my own small collection of songs blended into the storyline.

Choosing two of the four core emotions (love, fear, joy, and anger), I matched each one with a song. With an assist from Spotify, Taylor played my selections and theirs. As the initial notes from my first song came through the phone, I was startled; through the act of sharing a song I’ve listened to maybe hundreds of times with someone else, someone who’s never heard it, I experienced it anew. I swayed in my bedroom, closing my eyes as I waited for the lyrics to drift in. I felt the joy of knowing what will come and hoping it resonates with another person — do they hear it too? And in hearing it, do they see me?

These sonorous trades were punctuated with photos from Taylor, sent via text, and a discussion of risk, vulnerability, the cost of joy, and the blissful extermination of foresight. I divulged my preferred ice cream order and a heartbreaking incident from my past. We mulled over the nature of grief and nostalgia. I listened to Taylor’s songs and thought about the power of the mixtape. A curated adventure, revealing our own sentimental landscapes or feelings for someone or something else. A mixtape isn’t just an act of creation, it’s a fantastical gesture, a message that might only be decoded by the right person. It’s an emotional litmus test, a barometer for compatibility.

And we wondered: Was it really so awful for Pandora to open the box? In doing so, didn’t she endow us with perspective through anguish and devastation? How can we know love and joy without anger and fear? The Golden Record included the Latin inscription “per aspera ad astra,” which translates to “through hardships to the stars.” If not laced with hardship, how can we feel and define the unbridled intoxication of pleasure?

Taylor asked me what remained in Pandora’s box. As she unleashed the world’s evils, Pandora struggled to reseal the box, trapping one item inside: hope. After canvassing our emotional blueprint, we ended the experience, together, through one more song. I fished an idea, a song not on my list. This time, we listened without saying anything; the music spoke for us.

The dedication “To the makers of music — all worlds, all times” is also inscribed on the Golden Record. With each and every, Candle House Collective distills the magic of music from “all worlds, all times” into a single package: one extraordinary and hopeful phone call.

each and every continues through October 17. Tickets are $46.65.

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