Songs From New British Musicals #3 Don't Look Down

 

by Richy Hughes and Joseph Finlay (2017)

This is from a one-man show called Superhero. It's the story of a recently separated father who is fighting for his parental rights with regards to his daughter. 

Now I've never seen this show (I'm just getting the info from here). But I do remember the campaign group, Fathers4Justice, which, I'm guessing, were part of the inspiration. Fathers4Justice campaigners would occasionally make headlines by dressing up as superheroes and scaling famous buildings. (I seem to remember Batman once got up the front of Buckingham Palace, although it later turned out to be Prince Charles washing the windows. The ears confused people.)

So, for this song, our father-hero is dressed as Robin and climbing Big Ben. 

"Bing bong bing bong

Bing bong bing bong"

OK, so nobody actually sings "bing" or even "bong". Still, starting with the melody of the famous chimes lets us know exactly where we are and, presumably, saves on set design. In fact, this song is doing an awful lot of theatrical work, as we'll see. For the moment, though, we're more concerned with the character's vertigo.

"Is it a bird, is is a plane?

No, it's a twit in tights who's scared to death

Come on, dammit, dig deep breath and

Don't look down"

The great lyricist Ira Gershwin once said that "a title is vital". If his composer brother George ever replied, I'm sure he would have said something along the lines of "yeah, but the tune's a boon, bro". The point being that, if the title of a song is important, then the musical setting of the title is equally so. 

And here's a good example. The words "don't look down" start with two short staccato notes, followed by a longer note on the off beat. Three notes separated by brief rests. That little musical formulation is very precise. Those rests feel like snatches of breath: "don't [breath] look [breath] down". Like the shortness of breath you get with extreme anxiety. It's musicalising the physical expression of the emotion.

Here's another example:

"Me legs have turned to jelly

With every step I feel my belly scrape"

On the first line, the music modulates into a minor key and shifts from jumpy figures to wobblier broken chords. Meanwhile the melody descends by tentative half-step semi-tones which get increasingly dissonant against the sustained G in the bass, until, finally, we get to "scra-a-a-pe" on an ear-crunching Ebm6 chord. Again, the music is imitating the physicality of the moment.

That is very clever writing. 

It's also a very British. I don't just mean the London accent and the famous landmark. I mean the British sense of humour: the dryness, the self-deprecation. And, of course, the knob gags:

"I wanted Batman, they only had Robin

No extra larges, just smalls

I'm getting fat, man, I just squeezed my knob in

This costume, I can't find the balls"

Always appreciate a good "Robin/knob in" rhyme. You won't find that in Cole Porter's catalogue.

So we have an interesting setup, clever writing, funny rhymes and knob gags. What more could you want? Well, let's add dramatic ambition. This, I think, is where the song really stands out.

Throughout, there are these sudden shifts in who the singer is singing to. He starts out talking to himself ("What was I thinking...?) and giving himself a pep talk ("Come on, damn it, big deep breath..."). In the next verse, he's remembering and talking to the audience ("I wanted Batman, they only had Robin..."). Later he's addressing the crowds below ("Kids need Dads!"). Later still, he's shouting at the police or the parliamentary officials or Harriet Harman or whoever it is who's trying to talk him down ("Get back! Now way I'm coming down!").

These shifts allow the song to paint a very 3D picture. It's not just a soliloquy. The song is doing much more than showing us his inner feelings. It's expressing the physicality of the climb, his memories, the events going on around him. All through the words and music.

Then something different happens with the return of the chorus. The preceding section gradually builds as the character, frankly, starts going a bit nuts [keeping up the knob gags, I see - ed.]. The superheroes and villains in his head seem to be merging with real life ("Catwoman can't touch me or that Riddler of a judge"). The music modulates like crazy. The melody gets higher and higher.

And, all of sudden:

"Dad, look down..."

This isn't just a change in the person he's singing to, it's a change in the singer. Musically speaking, we're in an entirely different voice, having gone from Eb to the unrelated key of G. It's the voice of his little girl:

"I saw you on the telly

Your belly stuck out under your disguise..."

Now it's not actually clear what's happening at this point. Presumably the Dad isn't actually hearing his little girl's voice since he's half way up Big Ben. Maybe he found out what she said later and is retelling the story. Maybe he's spotted her in the crowd and is imagining what she might be saying. Maybe he's dreaming the whole thing. Honestly, it doesn't matter. What matters is his little girl. That's what this final shift in perspective is telling us and that's why it is so effective.

So the ending may be sentimental, but it's certainly been well earned:

"A silly superhero

But still a superhero in my eyes"

It's a proper musical theatre moment. That is, it's the kind of thing that only musical theatre can do and, as such, probably the kind of thing that musical theatre should be trying to do more often.

That, and knob gags, obvs.