Category Archives: lyric

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Broadway, Boys and Betty Buckley @RHCPA

I have no ear for music, a genetic gift from the Nonagenarian; unlike Betty Buckley, who acknowledges her talent was inherited from her mother. I fill that void with a passion for lyrics. George needed Ira; Cole…well he just needed Porter…and then there was Larry Hart. My appreciation for Sondheim is as a lyricist, not a composer.

Presuming that you have no idea who Larry Hart is, I quote the lyrics for “With a Song in my Heart” -

With a song in my heart
I behold your adorable face.
Just a song at the start
but it soon is a hymn to your grace.
When the music swells
I'm touching your hand
It tells that your're standing near, and ..
At the sound of your voice 
heaven opens it's portals to me.
Can I help but rejoice
that a song such as ours came to be?
But I always knew
I would live life through
with a song in my heart for you.

In comparision, I present the refrain from No Scrubs written by Kandi Buruss and Tameka Cottle:

I don’t want no scrub
A scrub is a guy that can’t get no love from me
Hanging out the passenger side
Of his best friend’s ride
Trying to holler at me
I don’t want no scrub
A scrub is a guy that can’t get no love from me
Hanging out the passenger side
Of his best friend’s ride
Trying to holler at me

Which one will still be sung 100 years from now? I’m putting my money on Larry Hart. I think Betty Buckley would too!

Betty Buckley has a powerful voice, but in concert she doesn’t belt, rather she uses that power judiciously to embellish the lyrics when the volume is appropriate. Her restraint is particularly welcome as these days young female singers seem to have only two speeds- silent or full throttle. By focusing on the lyrics, the audience is drawn into her performance, eager to hear how the story ends.

Thank goodness for the iPod. I no longer have to despair that radio has forsaken lyrics for street slang and expletives. I can download Betty Buckley’s interpretations of the Great American Songbook and skip the musical dystopia.

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#Smash, from Broadway to Cirque de Soleil

Ziegfeld must have experienced trepidation as Broadway morphed from show girls to show tunes. How did Cole Porter feel when social conscience and drama became de rigeur? Probably the way Sondheim felt when Rent opened. Broadway changes with the times, often reflecting societal changes. A case might be made that the best shows are capable of igniting change.

Why-oh-why-oh, am I disappointed that Season 2 of Smash is embroiled in a long and bitter divorce. The fight now is over who gets custody of the kids…the original song styling. Pop music Barbie is winning, while American Musical Theatre bleeds out in the rehearsal hall.

I had dreams for Smash. It would herald the return of music to prime time. Not the reality-style talent shows. Just good old fashioned fictional TV with plot interruptus, so singers and dancers can put on a show.

I guess not this year folks.

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#Smash, the second season

I was slow to warm up to Smash, last year. Christian Borle seduced me. So when I heard that season two was a revamp, and Christian B had earned a Tony nom, I worried.

The season two premier aired this week…2 hours of it. Steven Spielberg executive-produces, if you were wondering why NBC would go overboard. Lots of extraneous characters were cut…no philandering Broadway divo, no boyfriends- gay or straight.

What is new is a B plot, about a pair of hipster servers dreaming of writing the next Rent. Alternate Broadway, contrasting with the earnest, traditional show about Marilyn Monroe, called Bombshell.

Big Broadway faces portrayed themselves in small cameos. Jennifer Hudson, an American Idol alum like Katherine McPhee, one of Smash’s leading ladies, guest-starred. Everything old was hip again.

Rubber-faced Christian Borle continues to stand out. The big surprise of Season Two, however, was Jack Davenport. A British actor who is actually allowed a British accent. He is funny…who knew? Last season, his character was a dour, womanising, self-centred, douche. This season? All that, but funny. Delightfully funny. Borle and Davenport play off each other brilliantly.

Debra Messing’s character continues to write lyrics and weep. There was a nod to Will and Grace when her character moved into the apartment of her writing partner and best gay, played by Borle.

Do I love the new Smash? I am unsure, but I am significantly intrigued to watch episode two on CTV.

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Said Post…fashion in language

Sir John Gilbert's 1849 painting: The Plays of...

Sir John Gilbert’s 1849 painting: The Plays of William Shakespeare, containing scenes and characters from several of William Shakespeare’s plays. Since the artist died in 1897, this work is now in the public domain. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Under general remarks of the enumerator in a section of the 1851 Canadian census is a remark that refers to information about a mill that had been built that year. The enumerator wrote “said mill.” Using the term – said – as a link to a specific character or item in fiction is a trend I have noted amongst youthful writers. What I thought of as a subsuming of  legal jargon, turns out to be formal and traditional. It appears that language fashion is cyclical.

My generation subsumed the niche language of the coffee house. The next generation subsumed the language of streetwalkers and pimps. Eubonics became part of popular venacular. Rap and hipsterisms now slip lightly from the lips of news anchors and talk show hosts. Language evolves. Or at least the English language evolves.

I mourn the loss of the English of the King James Bible, and Shakespeare’s pentameters. The young hotelier of The Exotic Marigold Hotel used a rich vocabulary that opened him to caricature if not ridicule. Such a shame – his English demonstrated the beauty of the language when spoken well.

When Brits talk about football (soccer) they call a game a match, and the field a pitch. I wrote a promotional piece once about a soccer tour a travel company offered. I was asked to rewrite because I used the language of soccer as spoken by the English, the inventors of the game and some of the most rabid fans in the world. My language was precise and correct, that, however, I was told, would fail to communicate the professionalism of the tour, because the intended audience did not know the language of the game they played.

RIP – the Queen’s English.

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Ambivalent about #LastFridayNight – You bet!

A few months ago I was on a distribution list that delivered the mini-movie version of Katy Perry‘s video for her single Last Friday Night to my laptop. One viewing and I entered the camp of those who wondered How-many-young-girls-is-the-song-going-to-harm?

Perry played a braces-wearing 13 year-old who experienced a makeover that turned her into a teenage dream bombshell that wakes up after a night of debauchery, gauche and 13 again. With lyrics of the song appropriate for a jaded, world-weary 21 year-old, Last Friday Night turned Perry from a pop princess into a pop tart.

I wrote, but never, published a half dozen righteous and indignant reviews of the mini-movie. Then Glee returned last night, and I had to face my double standard. Why would I download Glee’s version of the song, yet rail against the wickedness of Perry’s version?

After reflection the only answer I can live with is that Glee’s version didn’t reinforce the adult content with explicit images the way the original did – or at least not as much. The song was Gleeified – like Ce Lo Green’s F* You, and a number of other songs with questionable lyrics that are sung by the ersatz high school students of WMHS.

Damn, this Friday night, I guess I’ll continue to try to connect the dots – shame-faced.