“Often vivid and frequently moving…his stories give the show it’s big heart and a few good laughs. Easy to wish that Steve Little was the guy entertaining your folks.”

The Washington Post

“Steve Little plays acoustic guitar with easy panache, sings pleasingly and tells stories culled from years of performing in assisted-living facilities — particularly on the Alzheimer’s floors. He has seen old people with dead eyes have the glint of life restored through music.”

The Washington Post

“Little should be commended for the fullness of his vignettes, his spot-on lyrics, changing movements and voice to fill our imagination about the characters to whom we are being introduced.”
DC Metro Theater Arts

“Shuffles easily between song and story, and feels like one tightly strummed chord.”

DC Theatre Scene

The Washington Post

A sentimental ‘Dementia Melodies’ at Fringe

From:  The Washington Post

By: Jane Horwitz, Published: July 19, 2013

Steve Little plays acoustic guitar with easy panache, sings pleasingly and tells stories culled from years of performing in assisted-living facilities — particularly on the Alzheimer’s floors.
You might want to have a tissue handy, because what the hour-long “Dementia Melodies” lacks in edginess, it makes up for in sentiment.
The Capital Fringe Festival show’s hopeful subtitle, “It Ain’t Over ’Til It’s Over,” reflects Little’s theme. He has seen old people with dead eyes have the glint of life restored through music. Music memory, he argues, doesn’t shrivel along with other cognitive functions. In a series of stories delivered in an easy, conversational style, he gives examples.
He also intersperses tunes of his devising, along with others he has borrowed, such as Stephen Sondheim’s backward-gazing “The Road You Didn’t Take” from “Follies.”
From time to time, Little uses doll puppets (designed by Ingrid Crepeau) to illustrate. These are no larger than your average Barbie and include three old women seated on a tiny couch. If that image seems cute or patronizing, the stories are not. Often vivid and frequently moving, they give the show its low-key kick, its big heart and a few good laughs.
Little recalls the seemingly paralyzed woman who kept time with one finger as he performed and who eked out a tear when he told her,“I see you in there!” He tells of a cranky old general who finally opened up on Veterans Day and of a woman who found a new artistic life on the Alzheimer’s floor.
“This is not a dementia ward. It’s a garden of reminiscence,” Little says.
It’s hard to reject his happier scenario and easy to wish that Little was the guy entertaining your folks.

Horwitz is a freelance writer.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/a-sentimental-dementia-melodies-at-fringe/2013/07/19/563cd34e-f08f-11e2-bc0d-556690a86be2_story.html

DC Theatre Scene

From:  DC Theatre Scene

by Sarah Ameigh July 15, 2013
Five star review from dctheatrescene.com

There’s an elderly woman on an assisted living floor somewhere spinning carelessly to a song from her childhood.  She’s young again, and she’s joyful, failing to notice the stares and gossip of her floormates.
Steve Little is playing guitar for her, and grateful for her grace. “Musicians love dancers,” he notes, and encourages the woman to keep moving. Through music, Steve moves the spirits of the elderly, and the audience fortunate enough to witness his sing-and-tell production, Dementia Melodies.
With some beautiful guitar riffs and heart-breakingly hilarious tales of his adventures, Steve Little brings his audience into the world of elderly care where he works as a performer for music-lovers old enough to remember Prohibition. He’s encountered grumpy medical geniuses, and long-retired airmen. He’s met women of war and of considerable means.
Each character’s heart and history emerges from his carefully woven stories, revealing what working for the joy of those alarmingly close to their final resting place looks and feels like. “Music lives in a place inside of us safe from the ravages of time,” he says.
Aware of the comedies and challenges involved in playing for a crowd of music lovers considerably past their prime, as well as the common fears of words like “dementia ward,” Steve recounts their stories with kindness and dignity. He further manages to present memories of loss and proverbial winter with the optimism of spring.
Steve’s gift of storytelling and optimism is inspiring, and his levity is transposed to the audience almost immediately, the reflection on our last days to hampering appreciation of our present ones. His use of simple but elegant puppets provide another layer of his creative professional world, and aid in some truly touching moments. Directed by Michele Valeria and Ingrid Crepeau, the piece shuffles easily between song and story, and feels like one tightly strummed chord.
Dementia Melodies is about fusing today and tomorrow, shaking free of the shame, the fear, and the loneliness. Life is for the living, his tales seem to say, and it’s up to you how much living you’re willing to do.
“I want to sing because I’m still here,” he exclaims, for the audience in front of him, and the audiences still tapping their feet in independent, assisted living, and dementia wards, their hearts forever speaking the vital language of music.
http://dctheatrescene.com/2013/07/15/dementia-melodies-it-aint-over-til-its-over/#more-43741

DC Metro Theater Arts

From: DC Metro Theater Arts July 12, 2013

By:  Bev Fleisher

Steve Little opens his one man show with a simple tale:  An elderly man goes to the village shaman to complain of general aches and pain.  The shaman first asks, “When did you stop singing?” followed by “When did you stop dancing?”
Little’s vignettes stress one simple truth:  joy is a matter of the heart, not the brain.  Through over 1,000 performances at homes for the elderly, Little has learned much about how music can be key in showing and eliciting  joy and bringing back emotions from long ago. Even the most affected members of the “dementia ward” can be reached, respond and forever changed through music.”  Little brings forth many memorable characters: one  is a very elderly demented lady who goes from silence and depression to a wild dancer making moves on him over the course of two performances.  Another occupant of his world goes from “being on death’s door” to warbling for a full day for the appreciative audience in the floor common room before passing away that same night.
Little should be commended for the fullness of his vignettes, his spot-on lyrics, use of puppets (designed by Ingrid Crepeau), and his changing movements and voice to fill our imagination about the characters to whom we are being introduced.  Whether it be twisted covers of doo-wop or his own compositions, each song fit seamlessly into the performance. His use of thoughtfully dressed puppets, desinged by Ingrid Crepeau, helps the audience observe each characters personality and presentation.
My only quibble is that it was difficult to know that Little was asking us to accompany him on his journey from performing for those in “assisted living” to reaching the “dementia ward.” On his journey, Little discovers that, even as our body deteriorates, there remains a strong spark within each of us.  By the next performance, the audience should see a prelude introducing Little’s path of discovery before taking even the first step of the journey.

http://www.dcmetrotheaterarts.com/2013/07/12/capital-fringe-review-dementia-melodies-it-aint-over-til-its-over-by-steve-little/

“Shuffles easily between song and story, and feels like one tightly strummed chord.”
DC Theatre Scene

“Steve Little plays acoustic guitar with easy panache, sings pleasingly and tells stories culled from years of performing in assisted-living facilities — particularly on the Alzheimer’s floors.He has seen old people with dead eyes have the glint of life restored through music.”

The Washington Post

“Little should be commended for the fullness of his vignettes, his spot-on lyrics, changing movements and voice to fill our imagination about the characters to whom we are being introduced.”
DC Metro Theater Arts

“Often vivid and frequently moving…….easy to wish that Little was the guy entertaining your folks.”                                                      

The Washington Post