By Evalyn Parry. Directed by Ruth Madoc-Jones. Produced by OutSpoke Productions. At the Cultch’s Historic Theatre on Tuesday, April 9. Continues until April 20

Evalyn Parry’s SPIN, which is about bicycles and feminism, provides a pleasantly stimulating ride for a while, and then it gets a flat. 

There’s a good deal of charm in the entertainment’s opening sections. The performance is a concert of sorts: there are lots of songs, Parry plays guitar, and, in the coolest device of the evening, Brad Hart accompanies her on the bicycle. The bike, a 1972 CCM Galaxie, is miked, which allows Hart to turn it into an effective percussive and melodic instrument. He thumps its seat, rings its bells, spins its pedals, and plays its spokes with a bow. 

At its best, SPIN is polished folk performance art. Parry crafts her songs from illuminating found materials, including instructions for learning to ride a bicycle that were written by feminist and bicycle activist Frances Willard in 1895: “Strange as this paradox may seem, you will do this best by not trying to do it at all.” The lyrics are potently lean and the arrangements, including Parry and Hart’s harmonies, are sensuously textured.

The heart of the show contains a startling narrative, the true story of Annie Londonderry, who rode her bike around the world—solo—in 1894-95. Londonderry’s tale allows Parry to convincingly flesh out her thesis that bicycling and early feminism are intimately linked. For women in the late 19th century, cycling allowed previously unimaginable autonomy; it also encouraged women to lose the clothing—the long skirts, petticoats, and corsets—that was a physical manifestation of their social imprisonment.

Parry also uses Londonderry’s story to riff—somewhat deliberately—on themes such as the relationship between the artist and the world of finance: Londonderry borrowed her last name from one of her sponsors; Parry sells merchandise after the show.

Then Londonderry’s story ends and SPIN, unfortunately, keeps going. The content moves beyond being deliberate and gets preachy. In the song “Names of the Chains”, Parry decries logo consumerism. Fair enough. But the approach is simplistic: “They are the names of the chains we wear/What kind of choice is a mall full of chains?”

Most annoyingly, Parry likens her struggles to Londonderry’s. Parry notes that she is an out, queer, female artist. Uh-huh. But Londonderry rode her bicycle around the world. In the late 19th century. By herself.