‘Melissa Etheridge: My Window’ Review: A Broadway Memoir, Confession and Concert That’s Worthy of Applause

variety.com:

Trish Deitch Before Melissa Etheridge became a stadium rock star, she spent four years playing lesbian bars in and around LA.

That atmosphere—a small, rowdy roomful of happy drunken ladies—changed the way she wrote music and performed. Etheridge loved the intimacy of those late nights—being up close and personal with an audience—and it’s clear from her new show, “Melissa Etheridge: My Window,” that she became expert at whipping up and working a crowd.

But though the Oklahoma-born superstar first comes out on the small stage at Circle in the Square Theater with a guitar slung around her neck like she’s about to give a solo concert to a screaming, clapping audience, what she’s also there to do is tell the story of her life—a story which starts with a small child strumming a badminton racket, and ends with the death of her 21-year-old son of a fentanyl overdose during the pandemic.

So “My Window” is a memoir, but it’s also a confession—part of the healing journey she’s been on since 2020. You don’t know this, though, during the first act, which is a raucous, funny, and fun show that follows two main tales: the first of a young girl whose love of music was an undeniable force that had her playing Oklahoma clubs every weekend at 13 and 14.