When “Passing Strange” opened on Broadway in 2008, it was an outlier: an uproarious, smart rock tale in which the band sat onstage and fully participated in the performance. Even better, the musical’s creators, Stew and Heidi Rodewald, were in that band — they had met in the Southern California music scene when she joined his old group, the Negro Problem, in the late ’90s.
They’ve ended their romantic partnership but, luckily, not their professional one. They’re now back at the Public Theater with a raucous new show, “The Total Bent,” in which the musical-genius son of a gospel singer in 1960s Alabama forges his own path to success.
The 54-year-old Stew, born Mark Stewart, talked to The Post from his home base in Midwood, Brooklyn.
Why do you go by Stew instead of your full name?
In the fifth grade we read a children’s story with someone named Stewy and of course kids immediately started calling me that. Then thank God the “y” came off, it was a little cooler [laughs]. Later, we got a gig in Germany and a guy there thought I was Mark Stewart of [British band] The Pop Group. When that happened it just clicked: the elementary-school nickname needed to be my stage name.
You’ve kept busy since “Passing Strange,” but with one-off musical projects, right?
The moment that show closed, me and Heidi went back to music. I don’t give a f - - k about theater — I don’t have a career in theater. People were trying to get us to do another Broadway show and we kept telling them [we were] just moonlighting in theater. We’ve worked between “Passing Strange” and “The Total Bent,” but it’s not on the radar of a lot of theater people.
The two musicals are basically about young black men figuring out how to be artists.
I write songs about a whole bunch of different things, but when it comes to making people talk onstage, I’m really only interested in writing about artists. My question is not, “Why do you express yourself for a living?” but “Why doesn’t everybody else?”
And both main characters defy stereotypes associated with their race and gender.
One of the main things for me as an artist of color, a black artist, whatever you want to call it, is dealing with expectations. In the old days, my band would walk into the club and they’d ask if we were a reggae band or a soul band — they never thought we were a rock band. To be honest, I’d be terrified to be a white artist because I wouldn’t know what the hell to talk about [laughs]. But I enjoy this ride. It’s bumpy, but it’s better than coal mining, you know?
You and Heidi are onstage again. What’s it like for rock musicians to do the same thing eight shows a week?
If “Passing Strange” had run for years, I would be in a mental institution! In that show we tried our best to write some moments where anything could happen so we could keep things fresh. Sometimes [the song] “Keys” would be four minutes, sometimes it would be 10. Sometimes I’d go into the audience. The Broadway crew thought we were crazy. There’s a part at the very end of [Spike Lee’s movie of the show] where I’m singing this sad song, but there’s a tiny little smile on my face because I know I don’t have to do that f - - king show anymore! [laughs]
You’re a lot less present in “The Total Bent” — any guitarist could replace you if the show has a long run. Was that on purpose?
Yes, that was totally conscious. Doing the show is fun, but when I saw what it takes . . . What I’d love to do is a residency at a New York club, something that doesn’t completely take over my life. When all this theater bulls - - t is done, we want to have a place where everybody can come see us. Me and Heidi want to be the rock ’n’ roll Bobby Short.
“The Total Bent” is at the Public Theater (425 Lafayette St.) through June 19.