In Order to Let the Sun Shine In... We Have to Clean the Windows
When I was nine or ten, my mother took me to see the Broadway musical, Hair . There’s a moment in the show where the cast famously disrobes on stage. Whether she knew it was coming—or cared—is unclear. Were we scandalized? No. Our seats just weren’t that good. The moment didn’t stick because of what was happening on stage. It stayed with me because of the atmosphere in the room. The show carried itself like a movement — bold, loud, insistent that it stood on the brink of something beautiful. It wasn’t just trying to entertain. It was trying to mean something. And even at that age, I could feel the gap between the message and the moment. Most people remember two songs from Hair : “ Aquarius ,” and “ Let the Sunshine In .” Songs that became part of the cultural wallpaper — still repeated whenever someone wants to reference peace, unity, or some imagined age of enlightenment. But there was a third song, a song not as closely identified with the musical. A cover by Three Dog Night...