This was the last big song from sixties crooner Matt Monro who was better known for smoochie ballads ("From Russia with Love", "Portrait of My Love") than upbeat numbers like this. In fact, no-one is associated with numbers like this because there's no song quite like it.
Some take it to be a protest song but I don't hear it that way. It's certainly about a street protest but, if anything, it's more of an un-protest song. It offers a snapshot of three fictional women. Two go out on a protest march (Shirley Wood and Margaret Beatty) and one doesn't (Annie Harris).
So the chorus is the gloriously hooky protest song bit:
Come with us, run with us
We're gonna change the world
Simple and fun, almost a chant. All very protest-y. But then there's this:
You'll be amazed, so full of praise
When we've rearranged your world
And there's the un-protest bit. It's poking some fun. We've gotten so used to the idea of the earnest protest song that it's actually quite surprising to hear one that turns the tables and satirizes the protesters.
You get a sense of this in the verses too. Compared to the simple chorus, the verses are more musically complicated with a bouncy melody shadowed by a bouncy chromatic bass line.
We get a couple of lines to introduce the protesters:
Shirley Wood gulped down her breakfast,
Shut the fridge and joined the throng
Margaret Beatty snatched the milk in,
Scanned the news and went along.
Then we modulate up a minor third. That's an unusual modulation. On top of that there's an awkward 3/4 bar thrown in just before the modulation. I think the music is doing everything it can to tell us that our perspective is shifting as we hear from the un-protestor:
Annie Harris drew the curtains,
Screwed her eyes up, had a peep
Saw the marchers, heard their voices, making early morning noises
Stumbled back to bed and tried to sleep
The words and music are setting up two worlds - the active protesters and the passive un-protester - and puts them side by side. And there's more satire of the protester's side:
Sit in front of all the traffic Harry busy shopping wives Try to stir their ostrich notions, whip them up to wild emotions
Put some fire into their wretched lives
Now I'm not sure of all the lyrics of this song. If I were being a lyrical purist, I'd look at the lines just preceding these and get out my big red marker pen, shake my head and 'tut' unnecessarily loudly as I noted the tricky-to-sing double consonants ("numbers swollen"), unnatural reversed verb order ("Up the marchers' banners go") and awkward scansion ("Protest for everyone to know").
But, honestly, I'd forgive any and all all of these lyrical hiccups for the quality of that last line: "Put some fire into their wretched lives". That is beautiful and wonderfully, funnily captures all the passion, as well as the self-righteousness, of some street protesters. If someone ever writes a jukebox musical about Extinction Rebellion, this song would get first dibs.
In the end, though, the song isn't really making a political statement; it's just describing a divided country. One group with plenty of vim and vigour but also plenty of condescension for the politically disengaged; the other group more concerned with their own lives, their work, doing what they have to do. The final verse speaks of the two female protesters getting roughed up the police whilst Annie Harris works in her office and thinks of Don (who, we assume, was her husband killed in war) who "died for others to live better". It's not a statement, just a contrast.
The contrasts still exist today.
Thankfully, so does this very odd, very brilliant song.
So this is Neil Hannon better known as The Divine Comedy.
The song tells the story (in the first person) of a guy who meets a girl, drunkenly goes back to a mutual friend's house, drinks some more, then they kiss and pass out. The kicker (spoiler alert) is when he wakes up in the morning and finds the girl has slept with the other bloke:
"No longer then
Is he our mutual friend"
Quite.
Now the album version has layers of lovely instrumentals to keep the ear entertained but this piano version lets us hear the song in the raw, duff notes and all. I like that.
Musically the most striking thing is the rhythm: a fast, synchopated semi-quaver pattern. It's unsettled, angry, obsessive even:
"No matter how I try
I just can't get her out of my mind
And when I sleep I visualize her"
There's something about that word 'visualize'. He's not just thinking about her or dreaming about her; 'visualize' is more intense.
So the rhythm speaks to this intense fixation. The melody, on the other hand - a slow, falling tune - is more melancholic, resigned.
And the harmony gets even more interesting. It's basically Bb major but not quite. That is, the simple 4-chord sequence of Cm-F9-Bb-Eb, starts and ends, not on Bb as you might expect, but on Cm. And when we do hear the Bb chord, it's in the first inversion, meaning that the bottom of the chord is a D rather than the root of the chord Bb. So we never quite feel rooted. We're drifting along, a bit lost in a dreamy drunken kind of a way. Just like the fella in the story.
The lyrics drift too. There are a few true rhymes (settee/me, 45s/lives, floor/anymore) but there are just as many half rhymes (pub/nightclub, noise/voice, danced/balance) which adds to that inexact, drifty feel.
All of this makes for, not only a great story song, but a great character song too. Some people think of musical theatre songs as songs that literally tell a story. So a theatre song will inform us that X happened, then Y happened, then Z complicated the situation in a meaningful-but-dramatically-satisfying fashion. But more often than not, theatre songs aren't songs that literally tell us a story, they are songs that are part of a story. That's why the character they are conveying is more important than the narrative they are telling.
Lin-Manuel Miranda has apologised for a lack of Afro-Latino actors in the lead roles for his new film musical In The Heights.
And when your Latino actors aren't Afro enough, that's colourism apparently (or colorism, depending on your dictionary).
Now, from my point of view, the problem here isn't about the colour (or even the color). It's the apology.
Lin-Manuel Miranda is undoubtedly the man of the musical moment. Hamilton has made a ton of money on stage and screen. In The Heights probably won't repeat that kind of success but the fact that a movie musical is a major studio release is something of an achievement in itself. It's clear that the man is sitting somewhere near the top of the entertainment world at the moment.
So why is he apologising?
The apology follows an interview conducted by the journalist Felice León...
Who she?
...who describes herself as a "blacktina"...
As in Turner?
The interview on León's online show The Root saw her address the fact that most of the actors in the film are "light-skinned or white-passing".
Now I can understand that if you're the polite sort who doesn't want to cause a fuss, then you may wish to humour this kind of criticism with a few appreciative nods of feigned concern. But apologise?
Artists shouldn't be apologising for their art. They should be free to produce the work they want to produce. What the colour critics (or color critics) are demanding is that they, not the artists, get to dictate who does and doesn't get cast.
And, if even guys like Lin-Manuel Miranda feel that they have to grovel and kowtow and amend their art, that's only going to make it harder for the thousands of others who have none of his influence or power.
It's not about the colour, however it's spelt (or spelled).
What's interesting to me about this song is that it could have come from a musical. I mean, stylistically, it could so easily be a theatre song.
I appreciate that we shouldn't be too precious about musical styles and, under the right circumstances, many different styles can be made to work in the theatre. However, given that most musicals involve singing words, I'd say that musicals generally require a style that allows for melody and clearly-sung lyrics (which is maybe why neither rock nor opera became the dominant style of musicals).
So that's all I'm saying with this song. It's melodic and I can make out the words.
So what's so good about the song? Well, it's simple. Really, really simple. Simple-as-a-Russian-meerkat simples. That's not a criticism.
Simple harmonies arranged into broken chords. Simple melody, mostly step by step, no big leaps. Simple move from lower pitched verse to higher-pitched chorus.
The setup is a woman who is still trying to get over her ex.
I heard that you settled down
That you found a girl and you're married now
This, I think, is where the song really shines. The best of the lyrics are these casual-sounding remarks, as if she's just taking part in a cheery, if awkward, catch-up between old friends.
I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited
OK, she's at his door. She's still talking casual but we now know it's not a casual meeting. Then the octave leap for the chorus rings up the intensity. But the lyric is still trying to keep it casual.
Never mind, I'll find someone like you
I hope nothing but the best for you, too
That quick mind/find is beautifully flippant, like a 'ho-hum, all the best'. But the music is pushing against the words. The melody is basically three falling notes that give a feeling of resignation. She knows they won't be getting back together but she can't help herself.
Eventually the facade crumbles and all she can do is beg not to be forgotten.
Don't forget me, I beg
I remember you'd say
Sometimes it works and sometimes it hurts instead
The voice literally crumbles on 'I beg'. The melody moves up in pitch and is obviously right at the top of her range.
There's something comic-tragic about the whole situation. This woman rocking up, all forced smiles and 'How are you? Me? Yes, I'm fine, just fine', and then breaking down, pleading for the only thing left for her, to become someone else's memory.
On second thoughts, it's not just the style of song that would suit a musical. Something like this would actually make a great musical theatre moment.
This is a good example of a musical theatre song not written for the musical theatre. And by musical theatre, I don't mean that it sounds like a musical theatre song. I mean it is written in character.
In fact half the songs from the album Lonely Avenue are character songs, probably due to the fact that the lyricist, Nick Hornby, is a novelist and knows a thing or two about writing in character. Really this album should be required listening on any musical theatre course.
The song's setup is a bit convoluted. Back in 2008 Levi Johnstone was the boyfriend of the daughter of then governor of Alaska, Sarah Palin, who got chosen to be the Presidential running mate of Senator John McCain. So this Levi dude, who was seen as a bit of a redneck, suddenly got thrown into the headlights of national politics and the American media.
In truth, you don't need to know the whole story. I have no idea what this guy was actually like. All I'm talking about is the character presented in the song.
So we start in G minor with a nice falling bass line, dropping by semi-tones. It's slow and dopey sounding like someone not quite fully awake. Which is exactly where poor Levi is at.
Woke up this morning
What do I see?
Three thousand cameras
Pointed at me
Then in the next nine words, we've not only got his situation, we've got his character too.
Dude says, "You Levi?"
I'm like, "Yes, that's me, sir?"
Nine words. Lyrics are often about concision. And that's about as concise an intro to a character's voice as you can get. From those nine words, we know he's young, probably not that well educated and brought up to automatically call his elders 'sir', so we're thinking conservative rural America.
In the next verse, Levi gets the whole your-knocked-up-girlfirend-is-the-daughter-of-the-potential-Vice-President situation explained to him by the journos.
Then a change for the pre-chorus. Levi begins to assert himself.
So I say, "Mother-in-law? No
We ain't getting married
And that means a change in the music. Two nice long defiant crotchets on 'I say' followed by more agitated semiquavers. That contrasts with the more plodding quaver patterns from the verses.
Harmony changes too. The verses were in a bluesy G minor. Now we modulate to the relative major, Bb. Except we don't actually hit a full-on Bb chord until we get to the chorus proper.
I'm a f***-in' redneck. I live to hang out with the boys,
Play some hockey, do some fishing and kill some moose
Not only do we get a loud-and-proud Bb chord, it's an unembellished Bb flat chord. What I mean is the chords just use the notes of the basic triad. On top of that, the melody is based around these triad notes too. The makes for a strong and straightforward statement. Here Levi is simple guy trying to assert himself with tough guy talk. The song isn't about his character, it is written in his character.
Also that 'kill some moose' line is hilarious.
There's one other point to make here about writing in character. It would have been easy to make Levi a complete cartoon, a village idiot for everyone to mock. Now there is mockery in the song but there's also something else - a touch of self-awareness. Levi may not be the sharpest tool in the box but he knows who he is and what he wants. That instantly makes him less of a cartoon and much more human.
Self-awareness is so important when creating a fully-rounded character and it's something that goes all the way back to the Garden of Eden. What happened to Adam and Eve when the nibbled on the forbidden fruit? They realized that they were starkers and were embarassed. What's another word for embarassed? Self-conscious. In other words, they became self aware.
It's what makes us human and separates us from the animals. Especially the moose.
Well, two reasons. Firstly, it's my blog and this is my favourite song, so there.
And secondly, it's not just the song but the intro.
Let me explain. 'Fly Me to the Moon' is best known as an upbeat affair by Frank Sinatra in a swinging 4/4 time signature. But it didn't start out that way. Originally it was a slow jazz waltz in 3/4 and it wasn't even called 'Fly Me to the Moon'. It was called 'In Other Words'. And that's the key to the song.
So we start with a simple up and down melodic phrase:
Fly me to the moon
And let me play among the stars
Which then gets repeated at a lower pitch
Let me see what spring is like
On Jupiter and Mars
Then the melody changes.
In other words
Hold my hand
It makes sense. 'In other words' introduces a new thought. New thought, new bit of melody.
And it's not just the melody, the harmonies are helping out too. Now don't be fooled by all those fancy jazzy added 7th and 9th chords. The basic harmonic structure is a simple circle of fifths. This is a standard sequence that composers have been trotting out since the 18th century, maybe even before then. You just start on one chord and keep dropping by a fifth for each new chord until you get back to the original chord. So, ignoring all the jazzy additions, the basic chord sequence is: Cm-Fm-Bb-Eb-Ab-Dm-G-Cm.
That takes us through the up-and-down melody bit and the fooling around on Jupiter and Mars stuff. Where does the sequence change? You got it. When we get to 'in other words'.
So here we have lyric, melody and harmony all working together in perfect, er, harmony. That makes for a great song.
But there are many great songs, so why is this first on my list? Well, that's because of the intro.
You see, that little phrase 'in other words', may be key to the song, but the explanation for it is given in the song's not-always-performed introduction.
Poets often use many words
To say a simple thing
It takes thought and time and rhyme
To make a poem sing
With music and words I've been playing
For you I have written this song
So that you know what I'm saying
I'll translate as I go along...
This is what songwriters do.The play with music and words. This is what song are. They are thought and time and rhyme.
For me, Bart Howard not only wrote a great intro to a great song. He wrote the the perfect intro for every song.
It will be a song by song account of various songs.
Not necessarily the most best songs or the most popular or even my personal favourites (except for the first one). Merely the songs I want to write about.
And although they may not all be musical theatre songs, I'm sure there will be things to glean.
Many, many moons ago I was kindly invited to hold forth with Comedy Thos on the MusicalTalk podcast. The two resulting chinwags can be found on their website under the elusive titles of:
Well, some Orange Guy was elected US President; we Brexited the EU; and some global pandemic even managed to stop the London run of Phantom of the Opera.
You see what happens when I leave you on your own?
