Sunday 22 August 2010

Better Get Rid Of Your Accent?

Andy Gibson, a New Zealand singer/songwriter/very thorough MPhil research student, has been casting an academical eye over the significant issue of accents in song. New Zealand singers, he reports, are more likely to sing with American accents than their own. This is, of course, not always the case. If you’re a Flight of the Conchords fan you’ll know that Kiwis are just as likely to sing with a French accent:


"Foux du fa fa
Foux du fa fa fa fa"


But Conchords aside, he has a point. Although, when it comes to British singers, you don’t need a sheepskin from Auckland to know it’s true. Just watch any episode of X-Factor Idols Have Talent. On these TV shows you’ll hear the all the glories of This Island Tongue from southern drawls to flat northern vowels. The contestants will speak with a myriad of Cornish, Brum, Scots, Welsh, Oirish and so on. Until, that is, they start to sing. When they open their larynxes all accents take a trip over the Atlantic. “I love you” becomes “Ah luurve yoo” and American English is the accepted standard.

Mr. Gibson takes a long hard look at this. (I admit I didn’t read it all. I stopped when I got to the scary graphs. But the introductary chapters are terrific). He makes some fascinating points:

1. “Singers draw on their memories of popular music when they sing. Their use of American pronunciation in singing is therefore the result of the fact that a majority of their memories of pop singing involve American-influenced phonetic forms” (abstract, x). In other words singers copy other singers. Since most pop songs and a lot of pop singers are American, everyone else ends up singing in American as well.

2. Singing in American English becomes the default position and, thus, singing in non-American English becomes a “wilful act of identity” (p.10, good sociologist phrase that). So when Lilly Allen sings in an English accent it’s a very deliberate choice. But is this wifully acting out her British identity or just willfully lashing out against mainstream pop? Is she being patriotic or merely different?

3. It’s not even as simple as American vs. The Rest. Often singers flit between accents depending on which allows for the best sonority. It also depends on the kind of singing and the kind of song. Reggae singers will always tend towards Jamaican accents even if they’re from East London. Singing that is closer to speech, such as rap and hippity-hop, will lend itself to regional accents easier than, say, opera.

So what does this mean for musicals and does it matter? I think it does. Musicals were born (Show Boat), grew up (Oklahoma) and went through their cynical adolescence stage (Company) on Broadway. Then, after a while, they eventually settled down and devoted themselves to the kids (The Lion King). The point is that musicals are essentially American and that’s the way we tend to hear them.

The British musical accent, such that it is, largely consists of Received Pronunciation (from G&S to Phantom of the Opera) and cock-er-ney (from Oliver! to the lower orders of Les Miz). Essentially it’s Julie Andrews or Anthony Newley and take your pick. There's the odd bit of Geordie in Billy Elliot but that's very much the exception. The accentual field is not a wide one.

Modern musical singers share the same problem as pop singers. The natural tendency is to sing in American English because that is, largely, what has been learned. Audiences have learned this too. It takes a deliberate effort to sing in some form of British English. But that effort can often feel forced or self-conscious as if the singer is trying too hard to be different. Attempting to be true to your own accent can, ironically, make a performance sound inauthentic to an audience.

This is a big problem for British musicals. A pop singer can get away with it. But a musical performer has a character to play and if that character is British, how can you sing the role with a natural, unselfconscious British accent? The answer, or at least the beginning if an answer, lies not with the singers but with the writers. In this I’m going one step further than Andy Gibson's MPhil (although the same point may have been made somewhere in the form of a graph, in which case, I missed it). Writers have to attempt to write songs in a British accent.

Now this is far easier said than done and I’m not sure how you’d begin. It would probably involve unlearning the American musical language even before attempting to create a new British one. But there’s no doubt it in my mind that it starts with the writers.

Take, as an example, this drole little couplet from West Side Story:
“I’ll get a terraced apartment
Better get rid of your accent”

The song is “America” during which a lively group of New York Hispanics debate the merits or otherwise of their adopted homeland. But look where the lyricist Stephen Sondheim (smart fellow, he) puts the rhyme: on the off-beat. Helped along by Leonard Bernstein’s swooping off-beat emphases in the tune the words come out as apart-ment and ac-cent (rather than the “usual” a-part-ment and ac-cent). Why? Because the Hispanic accent puts the empha-sis on the “wrong” sylla-ble. Just try singing “America” in American English or British English or anything other than Hispanic. You can’t because the accent is written into the song.

If there are going to be British musicals then its the British songwriters, as much as their singers, who need to find their voice.

The Very Model Of The Modern Major Musical

Rupert Christiansen in the Telegraph has been leaping on the barricades and waving the flag in defence of Mssrs. Gilbert and Sullivan. Amongst other things he claims that G&S are:
"...a living tradition that remains at the heart and root of just about every musical now playing in the West End or on Broadway"

He probably doesn't have Mamma Mia in mind but, even so, "heart and root" is a big claim.
"It is built on Gilbert's genius for light rhymed verse and Sullivan's genius for melody, which combine in a fusion of text and music that has rarely been equalled, let alone surpassed"

I'd quibble with that one. G&S certainly had their influence on musicals, particularly G. Ira Gershwin, for one, was a Gilbert fan. You can hear it in his lyric to this comedy number from Of Thee I Sing:
"She's the illegitimate daughter of an illegitimate son
Of an illegitimate nephew of Napoleon...
She's contemplating suicide
Because that man, he threw aside
A lady with the blue blood of Napoleon "

Gershwin even goes for the ol' operetta trick of inverting the sentence order to make the rhyme ("Because that man, he threw aside").

But these Gilbert-esque ditties are not what Ira Gershwin is famous for. It's this:
"I got rhythm
I got music
I got my man
Who could ask for anything more?"

This is most un-Gilbert-esque and provides a very different "fusion of text and music". It's not just the casual slang ("I got") that distinguishes it. It's the irregularity of the meter in the final line that's the real tell-tale. It doesn't read well. It's not very satisfying as spoken verse. The words only work, only make sense, only really come alive when they're set to music. You couldn't easily transplant these words onto another tune or vice versa. This is the difference. As Mr. Christiansen rightly points out, Gilbert wrote "light rhymed verse". But Gershwin wrote lyrics.

I suspect the real influence of G&S on musicals is less formal. Beyond those early Broadway lyricists and into the era of the integrated musical, their light grows dimmer. You can't really hear any of their style or structure in the musicals of Rodgers and Hammerstein (R&H), let alone Stephen Sondheim (S&S) or Andrew Lloyd Webber (AL&W).

But there's no doubt that they set a standard. They demonstrated that musical theatre could be of smart, sophisticated, tuneful and funny. They provided a link to the Old World operetta and an alternative to the vaudevillian model of musical comedy. Maybe not the "root" of every musical then, but certainly the heart.

Who'd Want To Be A Librettist?

Charles "two minds" Spencer gets confused at Into the Woods:

"With characteristic ingenuity, Sondheim weaves together several fairy stories..."

But (there's always a but):
"But in the second half the musical falls apart. James Lapine’s book becomes an increasingly confused mess of plottage..."

So let me understand this. It's the songwriter, Stephen Sondheim, who weaves all the stories together so ingenuously. But it's the book writer, James Lapine, who messes up the plotting in Act II.

Ah, book writers: none of the praise, all of the blame.