Many Characters of David Cale Take the Stage at Taper, Too

You wouldn’t think of David Cale as a shy guy. But he is.

“Painfully shy,” said the man who spends his evenings alone on stage telling stories to an audience of complete strangers. “It’s curious, because I really am very shy--and what I do isn’t.” To use the current popular term, the British-born Cale, 28, is a monologuist. His newest piece, “The Redthroats,” which opened Friday at Taper, Too, is part of the UK / LA ’88 Festival.

“What I do is write stories and characters and monologues and words that fit with music--then put them all together,” explained the former rock musician. Not surprisingly, the form has its roots in music: “I began to speak the words of the songs I was writing, and I found they were more effective that way. So I started writing spoken songs. The little spoken songs began turning into small monologues. Gradually, I put all the teeny pieces together--and I had a one-hour-and-10-minute show.”

Then he began to work on his voice. “Within the context of one story (“The Weirds”), I had about 10 different characters--and sometimes the story would fall away and the characters would just talk to each other. So I had to work to define these characters, give them more range, more coloring. I don’t impose or tack on a wildly different voice, just push my own further out. It’s really quite organic. This show uses a wide range of the vocal register--and I try to make it like a piece of music.”

The analogy is apt. Although he continues to work with musicians, Cale says firmly, “I no longer want to be one. I’m not a good enough singer.” Happily for him, Cale’s found other career options since his arrival in the United States in 1979.

“I just wanted to live here,” he said of the move. “I love it here, I’m happier here. I feel much more attached to America, always did.” (In “Redthroats,” the protagonist Steven, whom we visit at age 11, 16 and 20, also ventures from his native England to America.)

Which leads, naturally, to the inevitable comparisons between life and art.

“I am not playing myself on stage,” Cale insisted. “I’m very much playing a part. I mean, there are pieces that are drawn from my life, but so much is fiction.”

He shook his head: “Do people think it’s easier to do an autobiography than use your imagination? On one hand, I’m pleased that I’ve convinced people. I mean, I want it to have an emotional truth. But it’s not the truth.”

Would he ever want to tell that?

“No,” Cale replied quickly. “I don’t think I’m interesting enough--I really don’t. Certainly not enough for an hour.”

Unlike fellow monologuist Spalding Gray, who preceded him at Taper, Too and who captivates the listener with odd, ironic and often-exaggerated personal fare, Cale keeps his dramatic creations at arm’s length. “It’s a piece of material,” he said bluntly. “I’m just the actor performing it.”

Perhaps that, too, is a cover for the shyness. Certainly “Smooch Music,” a words-and-jazz piece he created in New York last year with Lounge Lizards saxophonist Roy Nathanson, “is very broad, a lot of moving around; it’s not a shy show. But when it’s over, I go back into my cocoon. It’s a pathetic little picture.”

He still wonders why audience members had to look at him quite so much during “Smooch”: “After all, there were three handsome musicians on the stage to distract them.”

In spite of those run-and-hide tendencies, Cale has every intention of taking his newly found career even further. “This is just the point I’m at now,” he noted. “It’s a long process, a lot of turns. What I’d really like is to continue doing my own work and also act in other people’s films.” And give up his autonomy to someone else? “I’ve been very fortunate in that the two films I’ve worked on were with Woody Allen (“Radio Days”) and Paul Mazursky (the upcoming “Moon Over Parador”),” he said brightly. “Whatever they tell me to do, I’ll do it.”

Yet Cale is equally happy playing taskmaster to himself.

“I feel very serious about the actual work,” he nodded. “I hope that doesn’t sound pretentious. But every night, I’ve got to serve the material, do justice to the work. And I’m still wrestling with it. (This local run ends a tour that has taken him from New York to San Francisco, San Diego, Washington, Atlanta, Chicago, Boston and Minneapolis.) There’s a constant dissatisfaction; I’ve never been complacent about it. I wish I were sometimes! The preparation for this show takes me hours.”

And then, of course, there are the inevitable expectations.

Cale rolled his eyes. “When ‘The Redthroats’ first opened in New York, I was being described as a ‘comic monologuist.’ I mean, the piece is funny--I would hope. If it’s not, forget it. But the mood and tone shift a lot. I do a lot of things with my body. The lighting is always changing. It’s emotional; it’s a journey. Parts of it are black comedy, other parts are like spoken songs. Some of it is straight storytelling, some of it is character comedy.

“I think it’s better with no expectations.”