I wasn't exactly bawling at City Theatre's world premiere of Anthony Rapp's musical memoir, "Without You," but I was certainly choking up, brushing back a tear, then doing it again a few minutes later. Some cried more, some less, and some not at all, perhaps, emotional variety being the heart of live theater.

For me, the tears came as Rapp interwove his joyful, emotionally raw account of playing a lead in the original production of "Rent" -- an operatic rock musical about the great themes of love and death -- with parallel elegies to its creator, Jonathan Larson, and to Rapp's own mother. The poignant conjunctions between the work of art and Rapp's real-life grief are what hit me hard, stirring remembered griefs of my own.

Larson shockingly died the night of "Rent's" triumphant off-Broadway dress rehearsal. That and the contrasting tumultuous response the show inspired are the moving mid-point climax of "Without You." But all along, Rapp's mother had been ailing back in Joliet, Ill., so as "Rent" moves to Broadway, he keeps visiting her, coming to terms with a personal loss parallel to what he acts nightly on stage.

Author, lyricist, co-composer and performer, Rapp is also his own subject. The nine "Rent" songs he sings (mainly in excerpts) are joined by one from REM and six more he wrote in conjunction with three different composers. A skilled combo of four, led by music director and guitarist David Matos, backs him with what seems nearly continuous music, now soaring, now lugubrious, while Rapp plays Larson, his Mom, his agent and others.

Mainly, however, he plays himself, which isn't easy. Miraculously, he plays with a restraint that makes him believable both as biography and art.

You don't need to know "Rent" to respond to the human story "Without You" embodies. Its music is appealing and poignant on its own. But to the extent that you do know "Rent," the story widens into operatic impact.

The front of the theater is set with chairs and tables, creating an intimate relationship between Rapp and audience. Designer Tony Ferrieri's simple levels and textured rear panels come alive under Andrew David Ostrowski's mood-changing lights. Rapp and director Steven Maler (where does one end and the other begin?) keep things moving but also give us space to feel deeply.

The parallels between life and art, whether in "Rent" or "Without You," sharpen that feeling. "Without You" knows that grief is an essential part of life. Enhanced by art, it has cathartic, curative power.

"Without You" is a nearly seamless 90 minutes. If it drags, it does so about three-fourths of the way through. But there's a triple ending in store: a song of anger followed by the bravely ironic acceptance of "Without You" and the healing assertion of "Seasons of Love."

Larson's work is such that he seems to have foretold his own death -- perhaps not literally, but at least with the insight of art. But I don't think it's cynical to say that what moves us about the death even of those we love is partly the intimation it brings of our own mortality. Art helps us face death. We grieve for ourselves, for our loss of others but also for our deepened sense of the shortness of all life, ours included.