Episode 130 Barenaked Larch - A Critical Review
★★★★½
What a remarkable evening at the podcast theater! This latest production from the Beat Around the Bench ensemble masterfully blends botanical education with culinary discourse while maintaining an absurdist comedy undercurrent that would make Beckett weep into his sawdust.
The opening act establishes dramatic tension with a philosophical inquiry into larch itself, revealing it as a deciduous conifer that bears cones yet sheds its needles in autumn. When Jess delivers his deadpan observation that his toenails do that sometimes, we enter a surrealist landscape where arboreal discourse and podiatric confessions occupy the same philosophical plane.
Colton's avant-garde performance piece involving sweet potato coins, smash burgers and burger sauce on tortillas represents culinary rebellion against conventional wrapping methodology. His monologue about toasting the burrito itself on the griddle demonstrates a character who dares to ask what if the vessel itself could be transformed. Revolutionary theater at its finest.
The centerpiece is Ross's extended soliloquy on the Milwaukee cordless paint sprayer, a meditation on technology and man's relationship with his tools. His passionate discourse on belt-mounted reservoirs and battery technology transforms product placement into Shakespearean examination. When he laments cleaning nozzles, we feel Sisyphus pushing his boulder as paint residue clogs the mechanism of progress.
The Survivor Trees segment elevates the production to operatic heights. Jess's narration of the Callery pear surviving September 11th rubble transcends historical recitation, becoming a meditation on resilience and nature's indomitable spirit. His restrained yet powerful performance guides us through the emotional landscape with a master storyteller's steady hand.
The Dragon Blood Trees finale contemplates umbrella-shaped Socotra flora that exude crimson resin and practice passive water harvesting through fog capture. The technical dialogue about resin saturation demonstrates botanical accuracy that makes serious dramaturgs swoon.
Minor quibbles prevent five stars, the pacing occasionally meanders and extended technological silences could benefit from musical underscoring. Yet these are trifling concerns in an otherwise tour de force. The ensemble chemistry crackles with authentic camaraderie as Jess narrates, Ross philosophizes and Colton provides comic relief without descending into buffoonery.
In conclusion, Barenaked Larch represents everything we expect from these players, intellectual rigor wrapped in conversational ease, technical expertise without condescension and abiding love for woodworking and ancient trees. Essential listening for anyone who appreciates performance art asking big questions like can tortillas contain all things and is fifteen hundred dollars too much for a cordless paint sprayer.
The answer is decidedly complex, much like the larch itself.
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