‘Black Light’ Creates a Politically Charged Escape for Those at a Crossroads

“What if I told you it was going to be alright? What if I told you not yet?” The first line of “Black Light” falls on the silent audience in the dark theater of the Oberon. As his original character “Jomama Jones,” Daniel Alexander Jones walks down the center aisle of the audience holding a lit candle as he asks the audience a series of questions beginning with “What if I told you?” Jones’s opening monologue transitions seamlessly into the funky first song of the show, as the stage is cast in bright lights unveiling the waiting band and backup vocalists to the audience. It is with this transition, from dark and curious to fun and bright, that Daniel Alexander Jones sets the tone for the rest of “Black Light.”

Running from Sept. 19 to 29 at the Oberon, Jones’s “Black Light” is a cabaret that explores the unique intersection of race and sexuality — specifically blackness and queerness — through dramatic storytelling and '80s inspired music. Jones embodies his character Jomama Jones, a wise, fashionable, and relatable woman who tells stories from her childhood and adolescence that transformed her into the person she is today. Jones is accompanied by a full band comprised of a guitarist, drummer, bassist, keyboardist, and two backup vocalists whom she lovingly refers to as her “vibrations.” With the help of her band and “vibrations,” Jones invites the audience to the “crossroads” where she tells tales of her childhood summers with her disabled and very religious Aunt Cleotha, getting in trouble for fighting over a poster of Prince in an eleventh grade science class, and the politically charged world we are all living in today. It is through these stories that Jones intentionally tips the scales between deeply philosophical, real-world, political messages and much needed comedic escapism for the audience.

Written by Jones with additional help from his collaborator Josh Quan and other musicians, the music is described in the show’s programming as influenced by Diana Ross, Prince, Sade, and Tina Turner. These influences were made obvious by the eighties style bass lines, funky drum beats, power chord heavy guitar and ethereal, synth-style keyboard. The individual songs from “Black Light” can best be described as a series of puzzle pieces. Alone, the songs are not very memorable — but in the context of the entire show, once all the pieces are put together, they create a beautiful, holistic story. The songs all carried politically charged messages, with themes of resilience, choice, progress, identity, love, and hope (or lack thereof). Each song punctuated Jones’s stories and helped transition between her reenactment of childhood memories and present-day life.

One of the most striking elements of “Black Light” was the heavy use of audience participation. While many performers may ask their audience a cursory question about how everyone is doing and go on with the show, Jones involved the crowd regularly in her storytelling. From asking the general audience members questions like “what is the definition of a supernova?” to standing next to and speaking directly to members of the audience as she told her stories, Jones treated the audience not like a group of onlookers but as supporting characters in her show.

What made the audience participation so easy for Jones was the setup of the theater. Unlike a typical theater with rows of seats and aisles, the Oberon was set up almost like a jazz club. The center of the floor was covered with carefully arranged and numbered tables with an aisle separating them down the middle and the sides were lined with booths and counters. Servers took drink orders from the patrons and brought them to the tables before the show started and audience members can get drinks from the bar in the back of the theater throughout the performance. Rather than staying on the stage for the entirety of the performance, Jones danced up and down the aisle between the tables, walked to the booths on the left side of the theatre, and leaned on the counters on the right. Her “vibrations” followed her lead and also traversed the theatre to get up close and personal with the audience members. It was the use of this unique setup and the engagement with the audience that created a fully immersive experience in which the crowd members could escape their own lives for the duration of the show.

At the end of the beautiful escapist reality that she thrust the crowd into, Jones forced everyone to see not only their own humanity, but the humanity within everyone else in the crowd. During an exercise in which audience members had to hold the hand of the person next to them — preferably a stranger, but a friend would do — and look into their eyes, Jones made sure that it was known that there are galaxies and universes within everyone surrounding us, not just within ourselves. She reminded the audience that everyone has their own story to tell, and it is imperative to seek out and listen to the stories of others, not just get caught up in our own. This moment was, without a doubt, the most memorable and impactful. It was at this point in the show when it was most apparent that the space created by Jones was a safe one. With a final lesson on the importance of sacrifice, making choices, and staying vigilant, Jones ended the show the way it started — with a funky tune and a series of “What if I told you”s uttered in the dark.

Through the sharing of her most personal childhood tales and the inclusion of the audience in every aspect of the show, especially the finale, Jones both broadcasted her own vulnerability and allowed her audience members to relish in their own. While most shows create spaces in which the performers are the most exposed and the audience is guarded, in “Black Light,” performers and onlookers alike are forced to feel and share those feelings. Jones gives the audience members express permission to feel their feelings and share them with her and everyone around them — for they are safe in this theater with her. “Black Light” intertwines politics and humanity in ways that possibly have never been done before and may never be done again.
—Staff Writer Annie Harrigan can be reached at annie.harrigan@thecrimson.com.