The Future Sound of Australian Musical Comedy

(WARNING: there are some naughty words)

"Drama" by Kate Miller-Heidke featuring Drapht - lyric video

(For reasons unknown I can't seem to embed this clip but it's very much worth a click)

This is a song from the album O Vertigo by Kate Miller-Heidke (assisted here by a hippity-hop fella from Perth by the name of Drapht). Miller-Heidke is a pretty exceptional singer/songwriter from Down Under. She's sung modern opera with the English National Opera company and she's recorded electronic pop with hubby/creative partner Keir Nuttal.

So far she hasn't written any musical comedy (although she's apparently working on a children's opera). But judging by "Drama" I'd say she'd be well placed to have a crack.

Generally with comedy numbers, people think about the lyrics, mostly the wit and the rhymes. There's plenty of that here ("deeper than Chopra/bigger than Oprah"). Then there's the comedy in the performance and the overlapping voices of the two singers in this song is beautifully timed ("I said.../I heard you the first time").

But what really makes a great comedy song is the music. The character being portrayed here is the world's largest ego; an outrageous and outspoken modern-day diva. So the words get spat out in short and punchy melodic phrases (half sung, half shouted). There's the high-pitched shrill self-affirmations in the chorus ("She's the man!") followed by those big piano octaves after the word "drama", all suitably over-the-top and melodramatic. To top it all before the final verse, the music modulates hysterically, moving up a couple of semitones for no good reason.

It's a terrific musical comedy number. It just so happens it's on a pop album. What with this and Gwyneth Herbert's "Perfect Fit", I'm beginning to wonder if the best musical theatre songs are currently to be found outside of the theatre.

P.S. For those who like their musical comedy a little bit more traditional, she can do that too:

Music and Emotion

More from Professor Begbie.

This time on music and emotion:

"It would seem that, at the very least, two things are going on here, sometimes simultaneously. First, we can be moved directly by the aesthetic qualities of the musical sounds - by their arrangements. We hear a chord sequence, a guitar riff, an intricate elaboration, and its patterning, its formal arrangement generates emotion. But second, very commonly, music's emotional properties get directed toward and attached to objects that surround it...we always hear musical sounds in a context." (p.297)

Of course, that context is very commonly words. Emotions require an object. We don't just get angry/happy/sad; we get angry/happy/sad about some particular thing. In songs, the words provide the particular. In musical theatre, it's not just the words but the story and the staging and the performance that provide the context.

(There's also an interesting side issue about how context-free or "pure" music can generate emotion. An orchestral symphony performed in a concert hall, for example. Apparently it's something of a mystery. The current thinking is that emotion closely relates to certain body movements and music can trigger these movements, thus also triggering the emotion.)

All of which supports a favourite saying of mine by the lyricist EY Harburg:

"Words make you think a thought. Music makes you feel a feeling. A song makes you feel a thought."

Truly, he should have been a professor.

Music and Speech

So I'm currently reading "Resounding Truth" by Jeremy Begbie which is, frankly, very high-minded of me. Begbie is a professor of theology but also a fine pianist. I can personally attest to this having once heard him explain the doctrine of the Fall by playing the theme tune to The Simpsons.

Anyways.

In a chapter on Bach he discusses the influence of figurenslehre. Now I'm more of a Bach-arach than a Bach, J.S. man so this was completely new to me. In my defence, the tradition of figurenslehre or musica poetica originated with the Greeks, was developed in Germany and ain't really discussed much these days.

But the idea is this. Basically, in the same way that classical Rhetoric, the use of formal figures of speech, can be found in Shakespeare's verse, so too can the musical equivalent be found in the music of Bach.

Begbie explains it better:

"Figures were devices that were thought to give music a greater rhetorical force, analogous to the embellishments orators use to make their speeches more persuasive and drive their points home. For some time composers had enjoyed illustrating textual ideas and words with musical figures...If you wanted to 'say' something musically, you needed to know your figures." (p.131)

Nowadays if you need to "know your figures", there's even a helpful website.

Here's an even more interesting bit:

"Some figures are very closely allied to the sounds of speech. Pairs of notes, very close in pitch, were thought to heighten a sense of sighing or lamenting - think of the sound of a sigh...What we should not miss is that what drives this more than anything else is the assumed link between music and language. Not only did composers believe these devices worked like rhetorical gestures in speech but they also used the devices to drive home a meaning or emotion already conveyed by the words." (p.131-132)

In short, Bach was a songwriter. Of sorts.

My little theory has always been that the difference between, say, an operatic aria and a popular song is that in the aria, the music dominates. An aria may be concerned with the meaning of the words but a popular song is also concerned with the sound of the words. Hence there is a more equal relationship between words and music in a song.

However, if I understand the idea of figurenslehre correctly, it sounds as if my little theory may not hold. At least the relationship between music and the sound of words goes back much further than what I generally think of as popular song. As with philosophy, democracy and salad, the Greeks got there first.

This all put me in mind of two questions about musicals.

QUESTION 1. When I was doing a spot of research on Billie Holiday I came across a quote in this essay from the music critic Gene Lees who described Holiday's style as conversational rather than oratorical. I think I know what he means. I'd suggest that most musical theatre singers are oratorical in their singing style. So is it possible to sing in a musical in a conversational style?

QUESTION 2. Is lyric writing closest in form to writing speeches? I suspect there may be something to this. There's a certain rhythm to speech-writing. There's usually repetition of key phrases (like a song title) and there's a concision, trying to capture an idea with a simple and clear message. Also I seem to remember the author Robert Harris describe political speeches as "verbalised emotion" which, for sheer pithiness, is a pretty good description of a song.

Answers on a postcard, please.

Interview with Niamh Perry

My interview with Niamh Perry, who is currently playing in the revival of Ben Elton and Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Beautiful Game, is now available over at the ever-beatific Musical Theatre Review.

Looking back at my old review of the original London production I don't think I paid enough attention to the music. It's a very interesting score. Everything is quite sparse. The harmonies generally stick to the triad notes making them sound 'cleaner', less romantic and more folksy ("God's Own Country"). Sometimes harmony is ditched altogether and we just get a single unison line. The verse of the title song is simply a rising chromatic melody which is repeated four times:

"Buy the ref a flippin' guide dog
D'you call that a bleeding pass?
Kick it out mate! What a ball hog!
Dozy plonker shift your arse"

It's upbeat and sarcastic at the same time. The effect is quite unusual, a bit like a lumbering football chant.

A single unison line is used again in Act II in the middle section of "I'd Rather Die On My Feet Than Live On My Knees". But this time it's an altogether more sinister falling chromatic line as the hero is pressured into joining the violent struggle:

"Insects crawl, a man stands tall, he has to risk it all
Men dictate their final fate while fools negotiate"

Yep, still not convinced by Ben Elton the lyricist. Ben Elton the book writer is far better. It's a shame he hasn't done more of it - musical comedies, in particular. There seems to be a skills shortage in this area.

However I did get one thing right. The big ballad "Our Kind of Love" always felt out of place in this score. That's because it belonged to another one. The tune became the title song from Love Never Dies and isn't making an appearance in revival.

One final memory from the original production. At some point in Act II one of the players from the football team, having been falsely accused of betraying an IRA member, gets crippled by being shot in the kneecap. On stage, as the gun was fired, the stage went black except for a single spotlight on the victim. In slow motion the actor mimed kicking a football whilst a ghostly whisper of "goal!" went through the auditorium. It lasted about 5 seconds. Then the lights came back and the story continued. It was so unexpected, so surreal and so uniquely theatrical, that it's a moment I'll never forget.

Definitely a show worth a second listen.

Whistling in the Dark

Barbara Jane Mackie, authoress a new musical Rumpy Pumpy, has some advice for any fellow travellers embarking on the stormy seas of a new musical theatre writing:

"Ok, folks. I am doing it and only have a very rusty grade 5 Piano (ended up after six years of lessons only being able to play a John Mayall’s Blues song and badly after too many drinks!) so be VERY ENCOURAGED, people, because if this particular writer can cobble together her FIRST MUSICAL so can you!"

Fear not. In terms of musical education, Grade 5 Piano puts you somewhere in between Lionel Bart and Leonard Bernstein. And remember - it can't be wrong if you write it in capitals.

"Step one: wait until the dead of night in your darkened bedroom (must be pitch black) and drag your phone to your ear and press the ‘record’ button. Step Two: Get into the character you are creating for – in my case ‘RUMPY PUMPY!’ ‘s main character, Holly, a Brothel owner) and think yourself IN. Step three, get under that duvet so husband and lurking teens in nearby bedrooms can’t hear you and start to warble away – one note after another – into your record section of your phone. Step three: Banish all those demons and lurking critics in your head and GO FOR IT -sing a note, sing two, sing three. Does it sound shite? Maybe, but that doesn’t matter – onwards, mon brave! Step Four: Just force out the notes, they will come, I promise! This particular writer has a rusty/coffee-stained voice so you can imagine that my croaking is anything but effective but you must FORCE yourself to believe in your ability to COMPOSE!"

Not for some an education in the finer points of the centuries-developed Western tonal system. Just believe.

"Now ‘Compose’ is a very weighty word which scares the living daylights out of most of us – it certainly did me! – but press on. Agreed, this darkened duvet crazy way of creating is certainly not for the feint hearted, but as said, if Barbara Jane Mackie can write a Musical so can you! Be brave. Step Five: play back the few notes – maybe just four or five in sequence – that you have recorded and reflect. Shite or semi-shite or … ok-ish? If ok-ish, pat yourself on the back and think of some lyrics to match your warblings – this can help the process, believe me – and then do another RECORD. Be brave – do it! How does it sound now? Like a tune? If you have a tune, then you are technically a composer and pour yourself a large brandy and go to sleep, dreaming dreams of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Oscar glory!"

Well, you've got to admire her pluck. And I do.

But it's also a reminder that musicals, unlike opera, are for everyone. Few would ever feel capable of writing an opera, but a musical? Why not? The book is just talking, the lyrics are just talking in rhyme and the music is just tunes you can hum. Let's have a crack.

It's tempting to be cynical about such an attitude but, in truth, I'm envious. Some of us are too prone to endless analysis about things like structure, form, style and the scopo- and audio-philic significance of Michael Crawford. In the end, musical theatre is a practical art; more to be done than to be thought about.

Ultimately, as per Ms Mackie, to write a musical - absurd idea that it is - requires a certain amount of belief or, at least, deliberate self-delusion. Which reminds me of tennis.

Famously grumpy player-turned-pundit John McEnroe was commenting on a Wimbledon match. One of the players had just lost a point and was complaining about it to the umpire. "Absolutely right," said Macca. "You blame the umpire, you blame the net, you blame the ball boy. You have to, otherwise you end up blaming yourself and then you're finished."

I paraphrase. But the point is that perhaps a large amount of belief in your own ability is necessary to be a professional sports person. Sometimes, when the chips are down, you need to protect that belief even to the extent of deliberately deluding yourself simply to get you through the next point. I wonder if it's the same with writing a musical.

Now, if you'll excuse me. I must find a duvet to hide under.

Some Thoughts on The Scottsboro Boys

A small comment of mine posted over at the very excellent Civilian Theatre blog concerning their review of Kander and Ebb's The Scottsboro Boys:

"Thanks for your review. I hesitate to comment as I didn't actually get to see The Scottsboro Boys, although I have done quite a bit of research on the show. But, caveat aside, I do have one quibble with your very interesting comparison with The Book of Mormon (which I have seen). If that show is, at times, 'surprisingly conservative', that's not necessarily an attempt to appease Middle America (given the content, I can't imagine that it's really a Middle America kind of a show). Rather it's that Mormon is an equal opportunites offender, happy to satirise everyone and everything. The Scottsboro Boys, on the other hand, seems to be satirising one thing - Southern racism - and then implicating everyone, i.e. the audience, in exactly the same kind of racism. So the satire is working in different ways (although, you're absolutely right, Mormon is more juvenile than Juvenalian). But, it seems to me, both shows are genuinely challenging. Just because one has been commercially successful, that doesn't make it any less so. To put it another way, which is more likely to garner compassion from a liberal Broadway audience? A poor black victim of Southern injustice or a Mormon? As I said, I'm speaking from semi-ignorance, so could well be off the mark. Still, yours is the most interesting review of The Scottsboro Boys that I've read. So thanks again and keep up the good work."

Some further thoughts.

I've talked a bit about concept musicals before (here and here). In fact, they probably shouldn't be called concept musicals but they usually are so I'll stick with the label for now. One of the limitations of the form, I think, is the fact that the basic concept is always the same. That is, the story is "framed" as an entertainment.

What is interesting is that in the most successful shows that use this device, the framing entertainment is also part of the story. But they are not the whole story. Let's see how this works for Kander and Ebb shows.

In Cabaret, Sally Bowles is a cabaret singer. But the show isn't just about cabaret. It's also about how showbiz can, at first, hide people from ("Leave your troubles outside") and, ultimately, seduce people into accepting ("If you could see her through my eyes...she wouldn't look Jewish at all") an ugly political reality

In Chicago, both leads are wannabe vaudeville stars. But it's not just about vaudeville. It's also about how showbiz can corrupt both the media and the justice system. (Also, according to the costume design, it appears to be about underwear.)

In my previous post I had a niggle about another concept show (not a Kander and Ebb one) Catch Me If You Can, in which the story is framed as a sixties television special. But sixties television has nothing to do with the actual story which is about a serial forger and deceiver. All we have is a loose parallel between the "fakeness" of the conman and the "fakeness" of a television entertainment.

I wonder if the same is true of The Scottsboro Boys, which is about the unjust trial of a group of black men and framed as a traditional minstrel show (including racial stereotyping blacks). But minstrelsy has nothing directly to do with the actual story (as far as I'm aware - again, I'm speaking from semi-ignorance, so happy to be corrected). Instead what we get is a loose parallel between the racism of minstrel shows and the racism of the Southern justice system.

Now, at this point, it's worth making a distinction. I remember the great Broadway producer/director Hal Prince being interviewed one time and saying that it wasn't until late on in his career that he really began to appreciate the distinction between a hit show and a successful show. As I recall, it was around the time that he stopped having hits.

So we should make this distinction: Cabaret and Chicago were hits, The Scottsboro Boys was a success. So this is not to diss The Scottsboro Boys, merely to distinguish it. But it seems that, when it comes to concept musicals (Kander and Ebb ones, at least), audiences prefer that the framing device used to tell the story should also be part of the story. Perhaps this is because it makes it easier for the audience to accept the framing device.

One further further thought.

The framing device of The Scottsboro Boys is a minstrel show and the songs and, as I understand it, the choreography and staging recreate much of the styles and tropes of a traditional minstrel show. Except for one: blackface. Indeed the blacking up of performers (both white and black) is arguably the defining feature of minstrel shows.

Would this have worked? Would it have just been too shocking? Frankly, would it even be legal?

I refer back to Civilian Theatre's excellent review:

"Kander and Ebb are well aware of the power of humour to shock and use jokes like verbal hand grenades; the audience often confronted with the sight of two black men forced into playing the archetypal ‘uncle Tom’ roles for their entertainment and internally reconcile the fact that they have laughed at their ‘antics’. This is comedy operating at the very edge of tragedy, and it is all the more powerful for it."

If the premise is to implicate the audience by getting them to laugh along with the antics of a racist minstrel show, then do we really need to see a racist minstrel show?

I don't know. I imagine that, even if the creators had attempted to use blackface, the controversy around such a show, assuming such a show could get staged in the first place would have distracted entirely from the show itself. To be honest, I feel a bit weird even mooting the idea. Such are modern sensitivities.

The Scottsboro Boys throws up a lot of questions. The answers are never black and white.

The Future Sound of British Musical Comedy

So my newest favourite singer-songwriter is Gwyneth Herbert. She is the composer/lyricist of the new musical The A-Z of Mrs P. Previously I blogged on one of the pre-released songs from the show "Lovely London Town".

Now listen to her song "Perfect Fit" from the EP Clangers and Mash:

"Look at my life, look at my dreams
And the wonder that the sky, it seems
So blue, so blue
And I smile as I sit,
As I found my Perfect Fit
And it is you
Yeah, it's you"

Is that not the future sound of modern British musical comedy? It's tuneful, but it's not old-fashioned. It's full of rhyme, but it doesn't sound like Stiles and Drewe. It has none of the eager-to-please forcefulness of a Broadway comedy number. It's simple, fresh and fun. And it's sung in a natural English accent.

It's got the feel of one of those optimistic Irving Berlin weather songs ("Blue Skies" or "Isn't it a Lovely Day?") but transplanted to a modern-day British seaside town. (Speaking of which, Gwyneth Herbert's song cycle Sea Cabinet, inspired by the Suffolk coast, is also well worth a listen.)

From the crits I've read, The A-Z of Mrs P has had a so-so reception. Well, that's a shame and I hope it doesn't put Ms Herbert off the musicals game. I have heard the future and her name is Gwyneth.

Era End, There an End

There has been some talk of late about the West End closings of both Lord Andy's musical Stephen Ward and Sir Timmy's From Here To Eternity.

Now I don't pretend to know why. If I were being flippant then I'd suggest that they probably should have swopped shows. Stephen Ward sounds like the kind of story that could use a bit of Sir Timmy cynicism and, personally, I'd love to have heard how Lord Andy scored Deborah Kerr whilst frolicking on a beach. (This doesn't sound right - ed.)

Who knows? Well, in the case of Stephen Ward, Michael Billington does. Not 'nough romance, apparently:

"His [Lloyd Webber's] great gift is for writing music about either fulfilled or unrequited romantic passion....But the problem is that Stephen Ward, a re-creation of the hypocrisy at the heart of the British establishment in the early 1960s, cried out for the kind of satirical bite one associates with Kander and Ebb musicals such as Cabaret or Chicago."

The idea of Lord Andy as a romantic composer is correct in that he writes big tunes that wring the emotions. But that doesn't mean that he can only write romantic stories. There's little romance in Joseph, Jesus Christ Superstar, Cats or Starlight Express. But they all did pretty well.

When assessing His Lordship's output his critics tend to place too much emphasis on the high romance of Phantom of the Opera and too little emphasis on his collaborators. If Stephen Ward did indeed require the "satirical bite" of a Kander and Ebb musical then it needed an Ebb as much as a Kander. Stephen Ward's lyricist Don Black is a funny writer but not a satirical one. Lord Andy may not have been the only one who was mismatched to the subject matter.

But, as I said, I don't really know.

What's interesting is that some (OK, one - step forward Mark Shenton) have suggested that with both Stephen Ward and From Here to Eternity closing, this marks something of an era. This is, of course, hooey. The Lloyd Webber/Rice era ended yonks ago. Lord Andy's last hit was in 1993 (Sunset Boulevard) and Sir Timmy's was in 1997 (Lion King).

The fact that we're still looking to these fellas to produce the goods is not only an indication of the scale of their past success but also a comment on what has (or hasn't) come after them.

Interview with Nina Kristofferson

My interview with the very talented classical/jazz singer/actress about her touring show Nina Kristofferson's Billie Holiday Story is now available over at the ever-s'wonderful Musical Theatre Review.

I am Woman, Hear Me Score

Buried in the penultimate paragraph of this piece in the Independent by Claudia Pritchard which previews the new musical, The A to Z of Mrs P, is this little footnote:

"The A-Z of Mrs P is the first major musical by a female lyricist and composer team..."

Now this doesn't quite make sense. The lyricist and composer "team" in this case is Gwyneth Herbert who is providing both music and lyrics. The book writer is Diane Samuels.

But there is a point to be made about the male dominance of musical theatre writers. There have, of course, been some top-flight female writers. Off the top of my head: Betty Comden (On the Town), Dorothy Fields (Sweet Charity), Carol Bayer Sager (They're Playing Our Song), Lynn Ahrens (Ragtime). The notable thing about that list, however, is that they are all lyricists (and some librettists too). No composers.

Why is this? I really have no idea. Maybe it's evolution. Maybe it's the cultural norms of a patriarchal hegemony. Who knows? But it is a curious thing that an art form whose audience is predominantly female should have so few female composers.

Gwyneth Herbert, exception though she may be, sounds more than promising. It's worth taking a listen to this demo of the new song, Lovely London Town, sung by Isy Suttie and taken from the forthcoming musical. I don't know much about the character or story (or, frankly, anything) but I do know that this is an interesting song.

If there is a common criticism of songs from new musicals, it is that they are too generic. I've probably used the word myself before. What is meant by it? Well, it's simply that the music sounds too general. It may be musically correct, it may be tuneful, it may sound inoffensively nice; but if it has nothing distinctive to offer, then it will ultimately lack character. And that's not good, especially in musical theatre.

The good news is that it doesn't take much to make the music distinctive. Going back to "Lovely London Town". It's relatively simple; for the most part, four chords underneath and a repeated four-note melody in a triplet rhythm on top. Yes, there are some nice musical sound effects in the middle (something tinkly and something that sounds like a miniature anvil) but these are for colour, not character.

The character bit is the wordless backing vocals, a chorus of humming and ah-ing that continues throughout the whole song. The light and swoopy sound is immediately evocative. You only have to listen to the first few notes and you know this character is a dreamer. For my money, the simple chords and melody also suggest an introverted or reserved nature. This woman may be a dreamer but she's content in her own dream and doesn't need to tell the world about.

As I said before, I know nothing of the story so I could be way off the mark here. Alternatively (but far less likely) the composer could be way off the mark and have misjudged the drama and written the wrong kind of characterful music. But characterful it is which, to my ears, puts it ahead of much of the competition.

So does this mean that The A to Z of Mrs P will be a rip-roaring runaway success? Impossible to say but hope it is. One thing is clear: the show does have a thoughtful composer capable of writing distinctive music. And that's significant.

The fact that she's a woman is less so.

Taking the Risk It

Dennis Kelly, book writer of Matilda, has been making the case for arts funding under the title of "Matilda, the musical? A risk only subsidised theatre would take":

"In 2006, Jeanie O' Hare at the RSC approached me about adapting Roald Dahl's Matilda into a musical. This was strange for two reasons: the first was that musicals generally start with the director or composer, not the person who's going to write the script"

Although technically it started with Jeanie O'Hare, the "commissioning dramaturg" (I'll bet you don't get them in the commercial theatre). But it's true: the book writer is not usually the primary consideration. Until the show flops and then they're first in the firing line.

"The second reason was that I had absolutely no knowledge of musicals whatsoever. Far from believing this was a problem, I think it was actually what she was after."

Well, ignorance is bliss, as they say. But is this a risk that the commercial theatre would never take? Let's take a look at some of the book writers with commercial musicals currently or soon to be playing the West End:

David Greig (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory)
Catherine Johnson (Mamma Mia)
Lee Hall (Billy Elliot)
Bill Oakes (From Here to Eternity)
Harry Hill (I Can't Sing)

All of whom, as far as I can tell, are first-time musical writers. And for good measure let's chuck in a couple of old hands:

Christopher Hampton (Stephen Ward) - a playwright whose first musical was the commercially successful Sunset Boulevard.
Ben Elton (We Will Rock You) - a screenwriter/novelist/playwright whose first musical was the commercially less successful Beautiful Game.

The point is that the commercial theatre seems quite happy to take a punt on first-timer musical book writers. That's probably because most people aren't primarily musical book writers. They are lyricists or playwrights or award-winning 70s Hollywood soundtrack supervisors who, for whatever reason, have found themselves with the unenviable task of writing the book for a musical.

"Then to make things even riskier, instead of getting a tried and tested composer to write the songs, the RSC went for a comedian, Tim Minchin"

Nope, the commercial theatre would never get a mere comedian to write the songs for a musical. Oops.

Whilst not an obvious choice, Tim Minchin was not completely left-field. For starters, he is/was not merely a comedian but is/was a songwriting comedian. For mains, he is/was a Roald Dahl fan and had even tried writing a musical of Matilda ten years earlier. For desserts, his dark and slightly twisted sense of humour is/was a perfect match for Roald Dahl (something that perhaps didn't quite work with Charlie and the Choclolate Factory with the more campy optimism of Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman).

"Could all of that have happened outside of a subsidised organisation? The answer is simple: no."

Actually the slightly more nuanced answer seems to be: possibly. I'm not saying that Matilda was risk-free. Far from it. It must have taken some far-sighted imaginings to bring that creative team together and nobody could have known the outcome. The point is that exactly the same risks are being taken in the commercial theatre. As Viva Forever proved, even the sure-firest kind of crowd-pleasing jukebox fare can go belly up.

Ah, but it's a different kind of risk.

"It's just that there is a different ethos when a theatre is largely funded with public money, a different sense of what it is you're responsible to and it allows for a different kind of risk, a risk that can lead to unexpected and peculiar things."

Well, this is an edited version of a longer speech, so I'll have to give Mr. Kelly the benefit of the doubt and assume the details have been lost. But if all you've got to show for the riskiness of subsidised theatre is "unexpected and peculiar things", then this is no case for more funding. Is Matilda any more "unexpected and peculiar" than Cats? Or We Will Rock You? Or Billy Eliott? In fact, "unexpected and peculiar" would make the perfect subtitle for my monumental yet-to-be-written masterpiece on the history of musical theatre.

I'm sure there are differences between the subsidised and commercial worlds but I'm not convinced it's to do with risk. I suspect it's more to do with process. Subsidised theatre offers longer development periods and ensemble casts which, I imagine, means more workshops and improvisation. The commercial world favours shorter rehearsal periods which, I imagine, means getting the script finalised before you start hiring the actors.

Really, I'm just guessing. The point is that, whatever the process, the final product is indistinguishable. Personally I would struggle to discern the subsidised qualities of Les Miz and Matilda from the commercial ones of Phantom of the Opera and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. They are all risky in their own ways.

Then again, so is all musical theatre.

Interview with Louise Dearman

My interview with Wicked star Louise Dearman now available in issue 5 of the ever-thrillifying Musical Theatre Review (subscription required).

One interesting note about the interview was her comment on singing live as compared to singing in the studio:

“Very often with songs I’ve recorded for the album, there will be notes that I had to do ten times in the studio which live, with the crowd out there and the adrenalin pumping, I can nail.”

Which reminded me of Tom Daley. I remember the Olympic diver explaining in an interview how he could only perform the hardest dive (a quadruple somersault, I think) in competition. He couldn't do it in training because he needed the adrenalin of competition to give his body the extra speed required to make the turns.

It never occurred to me that the same might be true of musical performers. It backs up my previous little theory about performance: it's not the level of performance that matters so much as the risk that the performer takes. The more risk, the more thrilling the performance.

Furthermore it suggests that we should have as high a regard for top West End performers as we do for Olympians. And that Tom Daley should be the next Elphaba.

Not Content With Context

So here's a curious thing. The good Mr. Seckerson has been considering Sondheim out of context:

"Watching the Stephen Sondheim/Julia McKenzie compilation cabaret Putting It Together (is that a fair description of this hybrid?) in its latest incarnation – courtesy of producer/musical supervisor Alex Parker – one’s thoughts turn once more to the issue of 'context' in Sondheim. It is, of course, the reason why so few of his songs have an independent life outside of his shows and why, even if they do, something feels lacking – as if the life-blood of these numbers has been drained along with the surrounding drama."

Is this true?

On the contrary, it seems to me that Sondheim songs have been unusually successful out of context. Indeed Mr. Seckerson goes on to give an example of how one song in the show is actually improved by a different context:

"The interesting (and occasionally irritating) thing about Putting It Together is the way in which the character and subtext of a song subtly (or in some cases unsubtly) shifts in response to its new context, how a number like “Lovely” from A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum is actually funnier and more ironic split between the bimbo and the world weary wife (in whose voice it becomes a bitchy cocktail party aside) than it ever was as merely a “dumb blonde” number."

OK, that's just one song. But let's look at the bigger picture. Here's a list of significant professional productions of compilation shows (according to this very handy online guide):

Marry Me a Little (5 productions)
Putting It Together (5 productions + one cast recording + one video recording)
Side by Side by Sondheim (9 productions + 3 [count 'em!] cast recordings)
Sondheim on Sondheim (1 production + cast recording)

Not to mention the compilation CDs. And all those Sondheim Songbook cabarets and recordings by various devoted performers. Has any other Broadway songwriter had so much success with compilations of their work? I'd be surprised.

For all the talk about how Sondheim songs are so wrapped up in the warp and the woof of the drama, it seems that fans are more than happy listening to them out of context.

So when Mr. Seckerson says that "so few of his [Sondheim's] songs have an independent life outside of his shows", I think he means that, although treasured by his fans anywhere they find them, his songs have rarely reached the wider public. And that's not because of lack of context. The wider public aren't particularly fussd about them in context either. On the whole, Sondheim just doesn't write hits.

Why is this?

I think there's a clue further into Mr. Seckerson's review:

"There’s one startlingly effective moment, musically speaking, where the 50s pop song parody from Assassins “Unworthy of Your Love” becomes a touching little sofa duet at the heart of the show. It’s startling because the music is so untypical of the composer and without the original context to explain why it sounds like it does, it’s as if another composer has infiltrated the party."

Again it's improved out of the original context. That's because in context that "touching little sofa duet" is sung by the obsessive nutjob John Hinckley who took a shot at Ronald Reagan in order to try and win the love of Hollywood actress Jodie Foster. Not so touching now. The problem is that lifted out of context, it doesn't sound much like Sondheim. It's just a really good parody. I think that's why he doesn't have hit songs. In context they're full of irony, cynicism and black humour. Out of context, they sound fake.

No doubt some will say that's because it's all too difficult and sophisticated for Mr. and Mrs. Joe Public slobbing around in their Les Miz t-shirts and drinking sentimentality from their Phantom souvenir gift mugs; Sondheim is just too good for the average man. Alternatively it could be that Sondheim songs simply don't chime with most people's reality; you pays your money and takes your choice. And most people don't choose Sondheim.

That is the context.

The Don

Lord Grade of Yarmouth has been at it again. This time introducing a tribute show to Don Black and chinwagging with him on a sofa on the stage of the Royal Festival Hall. As you do.

During their initial banter there was some time spent on rhyme. Like a dedicated stamp enthusiast, The Don apparently collects rhymes and files them away in little books. But, it seems, he doesn't post 'em. That's to say, he isn't really a flambuoyantly rhyme-y lyricist in the Noel/Cole sense.

From all the songs heard in the tribute the most memorable rhyme was probably found in "Some of Us Belong to the Stars" from Billy:

"Some of us belong to the stars
And that is where I am going
I will soar all over the sky
And I won't need a Boeing"

Which is fun. But not as fun as:

"My name is Dr. Sibelius
Don't worry, that's just an alias"

Which was part of a little tribute ditty performed by fellow-lyricist Richard Stilgoe.

The point is that the greatness in The Don's songs does not, I think, lie in their rhymes. Something else is going on.

Let's take a look at "Diamonds are Forever":

"Diamonds are forever
Sparkling round my little finger
Unlike men, the diamonds linger
Men are mere mortals who are not worth going to your grave for
I don't need love
For what good will love do me
Diamonds never lie to me
For when love's gone
They'll lustre on"

Now I've heard it said that the lyric is made lustrous by that that "lustre". It is the perfect word for the occasion, le mot juste. That may be true, but it's not the perfect lyric. To my ear, it doesn't sing. For starters there's the adjacent consonants of "they'll lustre" which is tricky. Then there's the problem of "lustre on" which, when sung, comes out as Lusteron. It's fine once you know the proper lyric but, until then, you could be left thinking that the song is about one of the randier robots from the Transformers franchise.

No, for me the line that makes the song is a few bars before:

"Men are mere mortals who are not worth going to your grave for"

That sentence-ending preposition may cause some heartache for traditional grammarists but, honestly, this ain't grammar. It's lyric writing. "Mere mortals" and "going to your grave" are the kind of everyday phrases that, in the right context and given the right tune (those menacing triplets from composer John Barry), are turned into a great songwriting. Follow that with "I don't need love" with "love" coming on a big long outburst of a note. What you get is the disdain, the anger, the hurt, the defiance. In short, what you get is a genuine character. And that also explains why The Don moved so successfully from pop songs to the theatre.

I've said it before, he is the Little Black Dress of lyricists: simple, classy, goes with everything.

Belonging to the Stars?

It's been a busy period for Lord Grade of Yarmouth of Her Majesty's Upper House. Taking time our from Lordly duties and following in the family tradition, he's taken to promoting popular theatre. In Michael Grade's Stars of the Musical Theatre he asks the eternal question: is it the musical that makes the star or the stars that makes the musical?

This is, of course, the wrong question. Star-wise the proper question, as previously discussed, is: how to distinguish stars who do musicals from musical stars?

Nevertheless it does give him the opportunity to shoot the breeze with Dominic West. And why not. He's a brilliant TV star who went on to play Henry Higgins in Sheffield. Now, for all I know, he may sing like Domingo. He may dance like Nureyev. He may break a hundred hearts with the rakish tussle of his wavy brown hair. Not a clue have I. But this I know: he is not a musical star; he's a star who's doing a musical.

This is nothing to do with talent, only stardom. To be a musical star requires two things: one, to be in an original musical and two, to have a hit song from a show. That's why we don't have many musical stars these days (and I mean "household name" musical stars). The simple fact is that we don't have many successful new musicals and the ones we do have (Billy Elliot, Matilda) don't really have hit songs. Hence, no stars.

So, until they produce a musical stage version of The Wire which includes Detective Jimmy McNulty's showtopping chart-topper "Tap Your Troubles Away Like Real POH-lice", then Mr. West will not, strictly speaking, be a musical star. On the other hand, if this does happen, I will be first in line for a ticket.

Back to the good Lord's question: is it the musical that makes the star or the stars that makes the musical?

It's tempting to say that it's a symbiotic relationship, like those colourful little birds that sit on top of African rhinos and clean their skin by eating the ticks off their back. I suppose the stars would be the birds, the musical would be the rhino, the ticks would be the lack of narrative drive in the middle of Act II. Or something.

Perhaps a clearer way of putting the questions is: who needs whom? And putting it this way, I'd say the balance is in favour of the musical. After all, there have been many successful star-less musicals (Billy Elliot, Matilda - gosh, they're hit-less and star-less); but there have never been any musical-less musical stars.

In the end, the show is always the star.

Rearranging SCJ

Just caught the the O2 arena performance Jesus Christ Superstar on channel 5.

Personally I could have done with fewer techno hippies and anti-capitalists with iPhones. But that's just me. More importantly I think they missed a trick with the casting.

I think they got the all the right cast but not necessarily in the right order. For my shilling it would be more interesting to see Ben Forster as Peter, Melanie C as Judas and Tim Minchin as Jesus.

Of course, that may mean that Chris Moyles would have to play Mary.

Ah.

New Year's Resolve

Eat less, blog more.