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.