Theatre in Review: F*ck7thGrade (The Wild Project)Jill Sobule's new show is just like her: sly, sweet, disarming, musically gifted, and often hilarious. Best-known for 1995 hit "I Kissed a Girl," she has flown under the radar in recent years; now she is ready to tell all about the road to her brief moment in the sun. This musical memoir, performed by the singer and the members of her band Secrets of the Vatican -- a name that gives you a good sense of her deliciously flaky sense of humor -- is a modest, unalloyed delight. Sobule's premise is that seventh grade constitutes a purgatory that leaves everyone scarred for life -- and who will argue with that proposition? ("Did any of you feel awesome when you were thirteen?", she asks the audience. "Raise your hand if you wanted to die." She gets quite a few takers.) For her, it was an especially challenging time, as it brought the awareness of her interest in other girls -- not the easiest thing to figure out in early 1970s Denver. Nevertheless, this and other problems are converted into uncannily accurate shock-of-recognition comedy delivered by the star in a dry, deadpan, near-whisper. Highlights include a forced interlude with the teen horsey set at a getaway titled Beaver's Ranch, a stopover at a private school named "Lothlórien, which scholars may notice was named for the fairest elf realm in The Lord of The Rings," and her crush on Mary, "an incredible combination of Marcia Brady and a meth-smoking biker chick." The dawning awareness of her lesbian orientation gives her plenty to mull over. It's the era of the Watergate hearings and, figuring out her mother might be seeing someone on the sly, she muses, "Everyone had secrets: Me, my mom, Nixon." As for role models, "The only ones I knew were Miss Hathaway on The Beverly Hillbillies and Miss Newby, the gym teacher, who looked, I swear to God, just like Pete Rose...Pete Rose now." There's plenty more, including meditations on the indie cult film hit Billy Jack, the joys of banana-shaped bike seats, and the strange allure of strawberry lip gloss and Jean Nate perfume. A college year abroad leads to her first night in a gay bar -- a dazzlingly decadent Franco-era hangout - a memorable night of love, and, proudly, her first walk of shame. Soon, however, music comes calling and she falls in with a smooth jazz band consisting of "vegan Buddhists who did a lot of cocaine." A move to Nashville gives a boost to her career, but nobody is more surprised than she when "I Kissed a Girl," written in a casual moment, is selected by her label as a likely hit. It's a correct prediction, but soon everyone is jumping through hoops trying to explain -- while convincing nobody -- that the song isn't at all about same-sex attraction. How desperate did matters get? "So at the end of the video, they made me pregnant with Fabio's baby," she notes, ruefully. It is not lost on Sobule that, a little more than a decade later, Katy Perry released an entirely different song titled "I Kissed a Girl" and it was a blockbuster. But by then she is reconciled to her status as a "two-hit wonder," and has learned to move on. The singer's kooky, sometimes halting progress to self-acceptance and a solid, if unstarry, musical career is punctuated by songs that are, alternately, dreamily attractive and rocking with energy, featuring lyrics that act as time capsules. "What Do I Do with My Tongue" crystallizes the agony of sitting next to the girl you adore, not having a clue to what she wants from you. "I Put My Headphones On" details one surefire way of escaping adolescent misery ("Flip the record, headphones on/Court and Spark, the Seventh Song/Joni sings: Love Is Gone, love is gone/Janis Ian's Seventeen/that song from 10cc.") And, of course, we get the infamous, yet undeniably catchy, "I Kissed a Girl." The songs are by Sobule, and playwright Liza Birkenmeier has structured the singer's story, resulting in a reliable growing-up-queer guide spiked with plenty of only-in-show-business anecdotes. The members of Sobule's band, including Nini Camps, Kristen Ellis-Henderson, and musical director Julie Wolf, take on various roles in addition to providing sterling musical backup. Early on, Sobule sings of a teacher who insisted, "Girls fingerpick. It's the boys who shred." Well, these girls shred. Director Lisa Peterson, who surely had a guiding hand in creating the lively, festive air at the Wild Project, has also assembled a fine design team. Rachel Hauck's bandstand set is backed up by two tiers of those dreaded school lockers. Lighting designer Oona Curley gets plenty of looks, ranging from moody to rocking, from a notably small rig. Elisabeth Weidner's sound design is perfectly matched to this intimate space, nevertheless making room for plenty of amplified thrills. David F. Zambrada's costumes feel totally authentic. We've gotten so many turgid musical biographies in recent seasons that Sobule's sideways take on fame and its discontents is like a blessed balm. Ditto her ability to render the miseries of adolescence without making too much of them. If you're looking for a ninety-minute tonic, I wouldn't miss this. --David Barbour 
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