Seattle singer-songwriter Peter Donovan unveils his new album “Community Theater,” an 11-track masterpiece that transforms a dive bar’s dim glow into a stage for life’s rawest soliloquies. Recorded in the final sessions at Strange Earth Studios, the album is a love letter to human connection and a eulogy for shared spaces—where lost souls trade confessions over cheap drinks and flickering neon.
Donovan, known for his work with All The Real Girls and The Rose Petals (and praised by Paste, Consequence of Sound, and American Songwriter), trades acoustic intimacy for cinematic grandeur here. Inspired by Bright Eyes’ electronic experimentation and Stephen Sondheim’s narrative depth, Community Theater follows Lorelei, a runaway bride turned bartender who collects stories like empty glasses. The album’s world is Frankie’s—a bar where every patron becomes a character and every last call hints at redemption.
Inspired by Bright Eyes’ Digital Ash in a Digital Urn and the narrative complexity of Stephen Sondheim, Donovan departs from his earlier acoustic foundations. Instead, he constructs these songs with hypnotic drum grooves and atmospheric synthesizers, creating a soundscape that blends indie rock urgency with a theatrical grandeur. A cast of Seattle’s finest vocalists—Chantel Bailey Blount, Natalie Colvin, Kate Dinsmore, and Sarah Gerritsen—bring Lorelei’s world to life, blurring the lines between a rock club and a theater district.
The album’s creation was also shaped by unforeseen circumstances. When Donovan’s regular guitarist departed, Sean Woolstenhulme arrived, bringing his distinctive six-string voice to the project and helping to reshape its sonic landscape. Alongside Dune Butler’s synthesizer artistry, Bradley Laina’s thunderous bass, William Mapp’s driving drums, and Charles Wicklander’s ethereal keys, the band captures the raw energy and “unpredictability of a room full of people who’ve spent far too much time alone.”
From its opening to its close, “Community Theater” elevates the mundane to the mythic. We witnessed fleeting romances, barroom confessions that resemble soliloquies, and the kind of love that offers a sense of home after years of feeling lost. Ultimately, the album reminds us that even in our isolation, we are all part of a larger story, navigating our roles and finding our way toward connection.
Community Theater thrives in its contradictions: isolated characters craving connection, polished production that revels in improvisation, and small stories that feel epic. It’s a testament to Donovan’s growth—a songwriter who can spin vampire tales and presidential satires but here turns inward, asking what binds us when the curtains fall. As the album closes, you’ll feel like you’ve lived a lifetime at Frankie’s, where the drinks are strong, the laughs are loud, and the ghosts are always welcome.
‘Community Theater’ is a love letter to the shared spaces that hold our most intimate stories. Each song reflects a different piece of our collective experience, reminding us that even in isolation, we are all part of a larger story.
