STAGE DOOR JOHNNY
and the
QUAALUDE-SAMBA-FOLKY-JAZZ GROOVE
by Glen Roven
Stage Door Johnny is John Miller’s phenomenal new CD featuring Broadway Classics done in John’s inimitable style. Think James Taylor crossed with Lerner and Lowe. Think Doctor John riffing on Rodgers and Hammerstein. When he first sent me an advanced copy, I played it in my car and almost crashed it was so wonderful. The legendary composer, Marc Shaiman summed it up brilliantly, “I had a smile on my face ten seconds into the CD.”
John Miller is hardly a household name. Unless, of course, a member of that household happens to be a musician, and that household happens to be anywhere near New York City. Then, trust me, John Miller is very much a household name.
For John Miller is one of the premier Music Coordinators on Broadway, the man (there are no women that I know of) in charge of hiring musicians who play in the pit orchestras of Broadway musicals. Right now, John looks after Hairspray, Jersey Boys, Xanadu and Young Frankenstein. His list of past shows hovers around one hundered.
But this article is not about Johnny Miller, the Music Coordinator. It’s not about his kindness to fellow artists, his generosity of spirit, his dry sense of humor, or his integrity and honesty. This is about Stage Door Johnny, which will be released September 30th, on PS Classics. With this CD, John steps out of the pit and into the spotlight, Center Stage. This is about John Miller: producer, arranger, musician and most importantly, artist.
Johnny’ performing skills come as no surprise to us old folk who witnessed his amazing performance in the musical, I Love My Wife. In addition to the four star actors, the smaller parts and, of course, the music, were performed by the band. (Take that John Doyle; Joe Layton was doing it in the sixties.)
Johnny’s performance of the Act Two opening is indelibly imprinted in my mind. The curtain went up and there he was with his bass, about to launch into the jaunty Cy Coleman bass line for Hey There, Good Times. But as it was snowing (on stage), before he started, he looked up, gently flicked a snowflake off the bass, dried off his instrument, and then hurled headlong into the song. Jack Benny could have learned a few things from John’s impeccable timing. The audience roared and Act Two started with a bang. I remember watching a performance with Mark Bramble, Mike Stewart’s pal who wrote the book and lyrics. Mark exclaimed, “Now that’s how you open a second act.
GR: Would I be off the mark to say this is the Broadway album James Taylor could have made?
JM: Anytime anyone compares me to James, I’m unbelievably flattered! It’s like saying, I saw you on the basketball court and you have moves like Michael Jordon.”
GR: Which is highly unlikely. Neither of us crack 5’7.
JM: I’m talking metaphorically, of course. But I never try to sound like James. Or anyone, actually. That just seems to happen whenever I start to sing.
GR: Which is?
JM: I call it my Quaalude-samba-folky-jazz groove.
GR: I wonder if there’s a category for that at Barnes and Nobles?
JM: Do we have a shot?
GR: Tell me about the genesis of Stage Door Johnny, the album.
JM: I skillfully avoided doing this for a good 25 years. I used to sit around on the couch playing all these songs on the guitar, late at night. Not really knowing what I was doing on the guitar…
GR: Cause you’re a bass player.
JM: Correct. I didn’t even know the names of some of the chords I was making up. It reminded me of the time I played with Joni Mitchell. I looked over to Joni and asked her, “What’s that chord you’re playing?” And she said, “No idea.” I’d play my arrangements for guitar players and they’d say, “What the hell is that? What an interesting chord.” I guess ignorance is bliss.
I’d say fifteen years ago, I thought, hey, let me get a little home studio, work out the kinks, play around with the background vocals, the bass lines. I went with Bob Rose (another major NY musician) to Manny’s Music store and bought this Yamaha Eight track home studio. Bob came to my home, he set it up, put the speakers there, the wires, etc., and left. I looked at the manual and I realize I’m very, very good with the first sentence, which said, “Congratulations you just bought a Yamaha such and such home studio.” I realized very soon I wasn’t so good with the next 50 pages. I didn’t understand a thing. My spine started sweating. I became totally technophobic. So much so, that I couldn’t even go in the room! So I retreated to my couch and started strumming the guitar. I went back to playing the guitar on the couch for another ten of years.
Then, two or three years ago, I had a light bulb Zen moment of enlightenment. After so many years of playing these songs, I pretty much knew what I wanted to do. I said, let me by-pass the whole manual part. I realized I don’t have to learn all that stuff. At the same time, Connie, my wife said, “Enough already. It’s too depressing hearing you sing these songs for 12 years. Either do it or don’t. I don’t want to hear about it anymore.”
So, it was just time. And after such a long gestation period, I knew exactly who I wanted to co-produce it with me, I knew who I wanted to play on it with me, who would engineer it. And the next day, I put the team together, booked the studio and forged on.
GR: Tell me how the music came together?
JM: It was as organic as anything can be. The first song I did fifteen years ago was “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly?” I didn’t plan on doing it. I was just fooling around late at night, D9 Bm7 . Be gong, be, ba da, bi gong ging.
GR: (thinking) How the heck am I going to convey how cool it sounds having John Miller sing you a bass line?
JM: So I didn’t have a specific song in mind. I was just watching some Rambo movie late at night. Just grooving. And somewhere deep in my mind’s ear, without thinking of it, I came up with, ‘All I want is a room somewhere.’
GR: And that’s one of my favorite tracks. How did you pick the rest of the songs?
JM: In every single song the groove came first. I never looked at a list of songs. I never asked, “What song would I love to do?” There were all based on some guitar riff that I came up with. And the rest just flowed extremely naturally.
GR: Interesting. Because after hearing the album, I would swear it was just the opposite: that the song came first and then the accompanying groove. But it makes sense: you, being a bass player, would work out the song arrangement from the bottom up.
JM: Correct. Not only the songs, but the complete arrangements came from that late night musical sound.
GR: That Quaalude-samba-folky-jazz groove.
JM: Yup.
GR: I think this is the only Broadway compilation that I’d want to have sex to. You don’t want to have sex to Dear World.
JM: No comment. But, I think I’m somewhat limited by my guitar playing. Cause there’s only one thing I sort of do.
GR: In addition to being your biggest fan, I’m also a huge fan of your co-producer David Spinozza, the guitar player.
JM: My choosing Spinozza to be a partner in crime was not casual. I thought for a long, long time. I’ve worked with him as a guitarist for years, knowing his sensibilities, and his sense of what I call right-eousness, what is pure, when there is a need for nothing, a need for air.
One of the most flattering moments for me was when Warren Odze (the drummer) turned to Spinozza and said, “David, that sounds great.” Spinozza pointed to me and said, “It was Miller.”
GR: Another one of my favorite tracks is “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.”
JM: I heard this tune as a “Brother Where Art Thou,” white gospel sound. I also heard an Aaron Copeland, Randy Newman Americana feel. I knew I wanted pedal steel. And again, I came up with my organic way of doing it.
GR: You’ve been around Broadway for 45 years! An amazing career. And you’ve heard a lot of music. Tell me. What makes a great Broadway song?
JM: I don’t know if I’m smart enough to answer that like a smart person would answer; but clearly, any time you go to a show and walk out humming a song you’ve never heard before, that has a profoundly deep effect.
GR: You and I are primarily behind the scenes guys. Occasionally we step out, but only when necessary. What’s it like for you being in the spotlight?
JM: My friends and I have made long careers out of being sidemen. One of my best sidemen stories is, I was working with this singer and she had written a waltz. She said, during a recording session, “I’d like this to be a reggae.” Now, she was smart enough not to ask any of us, “Do you think this is a good idea?”
GR: That might fly in LA because the musicians are so sweet out there. That would NOT fly in NYC!
JM: We are trained to say, “You got it.” We give them the best we can do and then leave. It’s their baby. They wrote it, their project. It should be exactly how they want it.
I’ve received many CDs from friends of mine who are sidemen and I’ve always been moved by what a courageous thing it is for them to do. They are, in effect saying, here is the music I feel in my soul, here is how I feel music.
So, this album is how I feel about music. And I’m very comfortable saying that. But it was an extraordinary experience to finally be the person who could tell these great musicians, I want my waltz to be a reggae.
GR: Has it been a pleasant experience?
JM: You bet. It’s a great luxury for a musician to be able to do their own project without any upfront deal. There are no restrictions other than your own imagination.
GR: And the goal?
JM: I had one goal only: for me to love every note of it. If other people dig it, that’s great. If some people don’t, none of that would take away from the joy we I had doing it. I have loved every minute. There isn’t any part of doing the music that hasn’t been a peak experience.
Glen Roven is an Emmy award winning composer who recently made his Carnegie Hall debut conducting his Violin Concert. The CD was released on SONY/BMG with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. He is hoping Stage Door Johnny will one day hire him.
Showing posts with label published non-fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label published non-fiction. Show all posts
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Sunday, May 21, 2006
BIOS for I HATE MUSIC QUEER SONG BOOK
I was so thrilled and flattered that these magnificent artists offered to share their talents with you this evening that I felt I should personally write their bios. If you want the traditional credits, you can either ask the person sitting next to you, who will no doubt, know every last detail, or check the internet. I thought this would be more interesting; this way, I could share my personal anecdotes and heartfelt appreciation .
GR
Donna McKechnie: Donna's legendary performances in Promises, Promises, Company and, of course, Chorus Line, are burned deep in my consciousness. I've worked with her a few times over the years, but we really got to know each other during Singular Sensations, where I interviewed and accompanied her for a week down at the Village Gate. One night, when I suggested she was a Muse to the great Michael Bennett, as Susanne Farrell was to George Balanchine, she looked at me as if I were insane. Never mind. She was. She graciously participated in a workshop of Pandora's Box where she had the "Grizabella" part (which meant she came in to sing one song and stop the show). Well, the invited audience, who didn't know the show, saw Donna sit on her stool for the entire first act, wondering what the hell she was going to do; but then, midway through the second act, she got up and stopped the show cold with "One Great Love." Why should I have been surprised? Stopping the show is her trademark.
Douglas Sills: When I first heard that Douglas, the phenomenon from Scarlet Pimpernel, was sent the script to Doctor T, I was excited. But nothing prepared me for the miracle of watching him create Terwilliker and perform in the workshops. Never has a monster been so evil and yet so lovable. And funny! And sexy! Plus, he's extraordinarily creative, articulate and a real inspiration to work with. One improvised line of his can trigger an entire song. He's also a loyal friend. Quite honestly, I wouldn't have presented this evening if he were unavailable. My greatest wish is for Doctor T to get to Broadway with Douglas singing If You Want to Rule the World .
Sandy Duncan: Seeing Mary Martin fly into the bedroom window as Peter Pan was a seminal part of my childhood. I always thought my heart would belong to Mary until 1979, when I saw Sandy fly off the stage and straight into audience; it was then that my heart stood still. I’d seen Sandy on TV many times before, but I fell in love that afternoon at the Lunt. And her rendition of Ugh-a-Wug with Mary Beth Kurdock was definitive. We subsequently worked together but only became friendly when we were both recruited to the swamps of Florida to help a mutual friend: we were the Simon Cowell and Paula Abdul of Ft Meyes/Naples Idol. There, I met her son, Jeff, also a great actor; it was touching to see her in dual capacities: performer and doting Mom. I knew that she would be perfect to narrate “The Runaway Bunny,” tonight; she’s a sensitive actress and nurturing Mommy.
Ittai Shapira: Quite frankly, Ittai is the very epicenter of classical music in New York City. Not only is he a brilliant musician (well, you can hear that for yourselves tonight) but a force of nature. Plus, he is consistently optimistic and positive which is amazing given the vicissitudes of the music biz. I wrote “The Bunny” especially for him utilizing all of his enormous talents: his dazzling virtuosity, his tenderness, and especially his humor. We’ve done many concerts together and playing with him is a master class in humanity. He founded The Ilona Feher Foundation which promotes young Israeli Violinist. I am honored to be on the board. If you’d like to come to one of our concerts, just get to Ittai or myself after I HATE MUSIC. He’s recorded ten Cds released on the major labels; they are all brilliant, no surprise. And if you’re a wonderful women (aged 22-35) looking for a violinist boyfriend, also come up to us…well, Ittai. This probably isn’t the best venue to look for something like that, but what the hell.
Kaitlin Hopkins: Kaitlin is a new friend of mine; I met her on the last reading of Dr. T. I didn't know her work (only because I'm a recluse and never leave my apartment) but Susan Schulman and Jay Binder stated unequivocally that she would be a great Mrs. Collins. And, of course, they were right. She had a tiny little number in the beginning of the first act. We had a few discussions about it, and, the next time she performed it, she virtually stopped the show. It was a wonder to behold. She's a real artist. (I liked her so much I actually got out of my apartment to see her in Trailer Park. Wow! If you missed it, buy the CD.) She's a great singer, a warm actress, and I'm glad to now be her friend. Tonight, she is singing songs from Pandora: it's a long leap from confused Mrs. Collins, to Mona, the lesbian handywoman of Pandora, but Kaitlin can take the jump in her stride. (And I love her on Law and Order!)
Sal Viviano: I've know Sal a long time from the proverbial “Broadway scene,” (Falsettos, The Full Monty) but I think the first time we actually worked together was in the Pandora's Box workshop. (Sal had an incredibly, difficult part to play: he was Oliver who is basically completely unsympathetic and a real shit until the second act; now "unsympathetic" is an actor’s least favorite action to play.) But he was fantastic. And the audience loved it. Then, when his character grew emotionally and transitioned into a state of vulnerability, he had the audience in tears. He sings two songs tonight from Pandora: the first, "Nothing To Do With Love," is a duet with his penis. It was a treat finding out what key his dick sang in.
Noah Galvin: When we were casting the 4,999th reading of Dr. T, Amelia DeMayo, the great voice teach for kids, called me up and said she had someone. When Amelia calls, you listen. I ran over to her studio and was treated to Noah. What a gem. What a voice. The casting people didn't know him and were a bit reticent to call him in, but, after hearing him sing "You Deserve a Prince" (which I hear is his new audition song) they leaned over to me and said, "Hire him!" He's going to be in Tommy this summer in East Hampton, and I know he will have a great career. People just don't sing better then he.
Kevin Chamberlin: I know Kevin least well out of the group, although I've obviously known his brilliant work over the years. One night a few weeks ago, he ran into a friend of mine who told him about I Hate Music. He said it sounded great and wanted to be a part of it. I immediately ran to the phone. "If you want to, I'd be honored." He gave me an enthusiastic yes. I love it when things like that happen; I always find the more talented the performer, the nicer the person! He listened to a couple of different songs on my web site and really responded to "Daddy's Here", from Norman's Ark, one of my favorites. He's on his way to national recognition with his new series in the fall with Jeffrey Tambor and John Lithgow. Don't miss it.
Joy Lynn Matthews: Joy is simply that: a joy. She's been slaving away in Menopause, The Musical for the last couple of years, although I swear she couldn't possible be over 38. (A great actress like her can stretch.) I loved her in Renee Taylor’s play, “Crowns” and look forward to her appearing in “Mrs. Lincoln” at the York. She's participated in all the many Dr. T readings and workshops, and her talent is a "joy" to behold. And ya gotta love those high notes. Stand back!
Erick Devine: Eric also has been in many of the Doctor T workshops. (And didn't you love the picture of him on the front of the New York Times Arts and Leisure section from Of Thee I Sing, a couple of weeks ago?) After the last workshop, he handed me a resume outlining his formidable directing career. I didn't know he did that. But, anything he does, he does well, so I asked him to direct tonight’s evening. I'm so glad he gave me that resume.
Amy Alexander: Amy, too, has participated in far too many Doctor T workshops. At one point she had a very small part in an early scene in the show. A friend of mine said, “I liked the show but I LOVED that girl.” She really can make an impression. (Of course, those of you who saw Little Women on Broadway know that.) At a previous Doctor T incarnation, the boy playing Bart was a millimeter away from puberty. Amy is so delicious and beautiful that I forbid her to come within 10 feet of that kid because I knew her mere presence could trigger his soon-to-be raging hormones and his lovely soprano voice would change right there in front of Gerry Shoenfeld. She was a good sport about it, kept her distance, and happily the kid made it through the run through--just! But I don't know what will happen with the kids in our show tonight; good thing they kids are on first.
One of the best things about doing an evening like this is meeting new people. Paul Staroba, a great new musical director in town, put together a choir from his colleagues. In their own words:
Brad Standley: As a new addition to the city, Brad Standley is
excited to participate in his first New York event and
to meet so many new and interesting people.
Sarah Orr: "Sarah Orr studied the piano for seven years as a child, and still could not tell you what a C diminished chord entails. Luckily she lives with a brilliant pianist. Play it again Paul."
GR
Donna McKechnie: Donna's legendary performances in Promises, Promises, Company and, of course, Chorus Line, are burned deep in my consciousness. I've worked with her a few times over the years, but we really got to know each other during Singular Sensations, where I interviewed and accompanied her for a week down at the Village Gate. One night, when I suggested she was a Muse to the great Michael Bennett, as Susanne Farrell was to George Balanchine, she looked at me as if I were insane. Never mind. She was. She graciously participated in a workshop of Pandora's Box where she had the "Grizabella" part (which meant she came in to sing one song and stop the show). Well, the invited audience, who didn't know the show, saw Donna sit on her stool for the entire first act, wondering what the hell she was going to do; but then, midway through the second act, she got up and stopped the show cold with "One Great Love." Why should I have been surprised? Stopping the show is her trademark.
Douglas Sills: When I first heard that Douglas, the phenomenon from Scarlet Pimpernel, was sent the script to Doctor T, I was excited. But nothing prepared me for the miracle of watching him create Terwilliker and perform in the workshops. Never has a monster been so evil and yet so lovable. And funny! And sexy! Plus, he's extraordinarily creative, articulate and a real inspiration to work with. One improvised line of his can trigger an entire song. He's also a loyal friend. Quite honestly, I wouldn't have presented this evening if he were unavailable. My greatest wish is for Doctor T to get to Broadway with Douglas singing If You Want to Rule the World .
Sandy Duncan: Seeing Mary Martin fly into the bedroom window as Peter Pan was a seminal part of my childhood. I always thought my heart would belong to Mary until 1979, when I saw Sandy fly off the stage and straight into audience; it was then that my heart stood still. I’d seen Sandy on TV many times before, but I fell in love that afternoon at the Lunt. And her rendition of Ugh-a-Wug with Mary Beth Kurdock was definitive. We subsequently worked together but only became friendly when we were both recruited to the swamps of Florida to help a mutual friend: we were the Simon Cowell and Paula Abdul of Ft Meyes/Naples Idol. There, I met her son, Jeff, also a great actor; it was touching to see her in dual capacities: performer and doting Mom. I knew that she would be perfect to narrate “The Runaway Bunny,” tonight; she’s a sensitive actress and nurturing Mommy.
Ittai Shapira: Quite frankly, Ittai is the very epicenter of classical music in New York City. Not only is he a brilliant musician (well, you can hear that for yourselves tonight) but a force of nature. Plus, he is consistently optimistic and positive which is amazing given the vicissitudes of the music biz. I wrote “The Bunny” especially for him utilizing all of his enormous talents: his dazzling virtuosity, his tenderness, and especially his humor. We’ve done many concerts together and playing with him is a master class in humanity. He founded The Ilona Feher Foundation which promotes young Israeli Violinist. I am honored to be on the board. If you’d like to come to one of our concerts, just get to Ittai or myself after I HATE MUSIC. He’s recorded ten Cds released on the major labels; they are all brilliant, no surprise. And if you’re a wonderful women (aged 22-35) looking for a violinist boyfriend, also come up to us…well, Ittai. This probably isn’t the best venue to look for something like that, but what the hell.
Kaitlin Hopkins: Kaitlin is a new friend of mine; I met her on the last reading of Dr. T. I didn't know her work (only because I'm a recluse and never leave my apartment) but Susan Schulman and Jay Binder stated unequivocally that she would be a great Mrs. Collins. And, of course, they were right. She had a tiny little number in the beginning of the first act. We had a few discussions about it, and, the next time she performed it, she virtually stopped the show. It was a wonder to behold. She's a real artist. (I liked her so much I actually got out of my apartment to see her in Trailer Park. Wow! If you missed it, buy the CD.) She's a great singer, a warm actress, and I'm glad to now be her friend. Tonight, she is singing songs from Pandora: it's a long leap from confused Mrs. Collins, to Mona, the lesbian handywoman of Pandora, but Kaitlin can take the jump in her stride. (And I love her on Law and Order!)
Sal Viviano: I've know Sal a long time from the proverbial “Broadway scene,” (Falsettos, The Full Monty) but I think the first time we actually worked together was in the Pandora's Box workshop. (Sal had an incredibly, difficult part to play: he was Oliver who is basically completely unsympathetic and a real shit until the second act; now "unsympathetic" is an actor’s least favorite action to play.) But he was fantastic. And the audience loved it. Then, when his character grew emotionally and transitioned into a state of vulnerability, he had the audience in tears. He sings two songs tonight from Pandora: the first, "Nothing To Do With Love," is a duet with his penis. It was a treat finding out what key his dick sang in.
Noah Galvin: When we were casting the 4,999th reading of Dr. T, Amelia DeMayo, the great voice teach for kids, called me up and said she had someone. When Amelia calls, you listen. I ran over to her studio and was treated to Noah. What a gem. What a voice. The casting people didn't know him and were a bit reticent to call him in, but, after hearing him sing "You Deserve a Prince" (which I hear is his new audition song) they leaned over to me and said, "Hire him!" He's going to be in Tommy this summer in East Hampton, and I know he will have a great career. People just don't sing better then he.
Kevin Chamberlin: I know Kevin least well out of the group, although I've obviously known his brilliant work over the years. One night a few weeks ago, he ran into a friend of mine who told him about I Hate Music. He said it sounded great and wanted to be a part of it. I immediately ran to the phone. "If you want to, I'd be honored." He gave me an enthusiastic yes. I love it when things like that happen; I always find the more talented the performer, the nicer the person! He listened to a couple of different songs on my web site and really responded to "Daddy's Here", from Norman's Ark, one of my favorites. He's on his way to national recognition with his new series in the fall with Jeffrey Tambor and John Lithgow. Don't miss it.
Joy Lynn Matthews: Joy is simply that: a joy. She's been slaving away in Menopause, The Musical for the last couple of years, although I swear she couldn't possible be over 38. (A great actress like her can stretch.) I loved her in Renee Taylor’s play, “Crowns” and look forward to her appearing in “Mrs. Lincoln” at the York. She's participated in all the many Dr. T readings and workshops, and her talent is a "joy" to behold. And ya gotta love those high notes. Stand back!
Erick Devine: Eric also has been in many of the Doctor T workshops. (And didn't you love the picture of him on the front of the New York Times Arts and Leisure section from Of Thee I Sing, a couple of weeks ago?) After the last workshop, he handed me a resume outlining his formidable directing career. I didn't know he did that. But, anything he does, he does well, so I asked him to direct tonight’s evening. I'm so glad he gave me that resume.
Amy Alexander: Amy, too, has participated in far too many Doctor T workshops. At one point she had a very small part in an early scene in the show. A friend of mine said, “I liked the show but I LOVED that girl.” She really can make an impression. (Of course, those of you who saw Little Women on Broadway know that.) At a previous Doctor T incarnation, the boy playing Bart was a millimeter away from puberty. Amy is so delicious and beautiful that I forbid her to come within 10 feet of that kid because I knew her mere presence could trigger his soon-to-be raging hormones and his lovely soprano voice would change right there in front of Gerry Shoenfeld. She was a good sport about it, kept her distance, and happily the kid made it through the run through--just! But I don't know what will happen with the kids in our show tonight; good thing they kids are on first.
One of the best things about doing an evening like this is meeting new people. Paul Staroba, a great new musical director in town, put together a choir from his colleagues. In their own words:
Brad Standley: As a new addition to the city, Brad Standley is
excited to participate in his first New York event and
to meet so many new and interesting people.
Sarah Orr: "Sarah Orr studied the piano for seven years as a child, and still could not tell you what a C diminished chord entails. Luckily she lives with a brilliant pianist. Play it again Paul."
Thursday, May 15, 2003
SINGULAR SENSATIONS: Program Notes
Necessity is the mother of invention and in the theater, the “necessity” is usually a lack of money and the “invention” is usually how-the-hell-do-you-do-a-great-show-for-50-cents?
My partner Angelo and I were executive producers of a new Arts Center in Pennsylvania and the one thing all art centers have plenty of is no money. Their budget forced us to figure out a way to present the Broadway performers we loved for the money they had.
We came up with an idea of doing an “un-plugged” evening. No set, a great star, two stools and me at the piano (because we couldn’t afford a band.) I would interview the artists and when we got around to talking about a musical they were in, I would play the piano and they would sing. Sort of like the Actors Studio interviews done as a musical.
Patti LuPone was the first artist to agree to do this. Even though Patti and I spent time working out the interview, on stage, she was completely spontaneous and surprising. I knew most of the stories about her shows, but she had me in stitches when she started relating the indiscretions on the floor in her dressing rooms. I knew we were on to something.
In fact, to be completely honest, deep in Pennsylvania, a lot of the audience wasn’t really sure who Patti was. But it didn’t matter. They loved the feeling of intimacy, the stories, the gossip and the way we were both connected when I played. They felt as if they were watching friends have a good time together, and indeed they were.
As it happened, two Broadway producers were in the audience that night (they obviously were going to Tangelwood but made a wrong turn at 209.) They suggested we take the format to NYC and perform it at a theater with different stars each week.
So now, here at The Village Theater, I get a chance to talk to all of my favorite, legendary people, hear the stories I’ve always wanted to hear plus get the chance to accompany them. And this time, I get paid. Although I would have done it for free. (Don’t tell the producers.)
My partner Angelo and I were executive producers of a new Arts Center in Pennsylvania and the one thing all art centers have plenty of is no money. Their budget forced us to figure out a way to present the Broadway performers we loved for the money they had.
We came up with an idea of doing an “un-plugged” evening. No set, a great star, two stools and me at the piano (because we couldn’t afford a band.) I would interview the artists and when we got around to talking about a musical they were in, I would play the piano and they would sing. Sort of like the Actors Studio interviews done as a musical.
Patti LuPone was the first artist to agree to do this. Even though Patti and I spent time working out the interview, on stage, she was completely spontaneous and surprising. I knew most of the stories about her shows, but she had me in stitches when she started relating the indiscretions on the floor in her dressing rooms. I knew we were on to something.
In fact, to be completely honest, deep in Pennsylvania, a lot of the audience wasn’t really sure who Patti was. But it didn’t matter. They loved the feeling of intimacy, the stories, the gossip and the way we were both connected when I played. They felt as if they were watching friends have a good time together, and indeed they were.
As it happened, two Broadway producers were in the audience that night (they obviously were going to Tangelwood but made a wrong turn at 209.) They suggested we take the format to NYC and perform it at a theater with different stars each week.
So now, here at The Village Theater, I get a chance to talk to all of my favorite, legendary people, hear the stories I’ve always wanted to hear plus get the chance to accompany them. And this time, I get paid. Although I would have done it for free. (Don’t tell the producers.)
Wednesday, August 21, 2002
CITY SECRETS: London/New York
JACK THE RIPPER WALKING TOUR
I know this sounds as corny as the wax works at Madame Taussaud’s, but trust me, it ain’t. It’s my favorite walk offered by The Original London Walks, the group that organizes hourly tours with subjects ranging from “Charles Dickens’s London” to “Princess Diana’s London,” from “The Old Jewish Quarter Tour” to the “Beatles Magical Mystery.” Show up at the Tube Stop, meet your guide, pay your £4 and you’re off. In two hours, see and learn more about London than most Londoners will ever know in a lifetime. “Jack The Ripper Haunts” meets Sunday nights at 7:30 PM at the Tower Hill Tube and is led by Donald (the world’s leading “Ripper-ologist”) Rumbelow. He escorts his group through the East End of London describing in gory detail the wheres and hows of each murder finishing at “The Ten Bells,” the pub where the prostitute-victims drank their final pints. Despite initial protestations from visiting friends, they invariably return to my flat in a Victorian frenzy saying, “That was the best thing we’ve done in London.”
SHAKESPEARE’S GLOBE
Fact: theatre is better in London. Don’t argue. It’s true. They take it more seriously, young people go, and despite the protestations from artists that it is under-funded, the government gives the institutions buckets of money. The most astonishing theatrical experience takes place at the Globe, a recreation of Shakespeare’s playhouse, the “Wooden ‘O’” itself. What initially seemed to the cognoscenti (or “luvvies” as they’re called over here) a potentially Disney-fied experience has proven the opposite. To hear an actor deliver a Soliloquy directly to the Groundlings from a bare stage with only the sun for illumination redefines Shakespeare; in fact, it redefines theatre in general. It almost makes any theatrical innovation since 1595 seem obsolete and twee. Who needs scenery, lighting, helicopters, when you can connect, one on one, with the most glorious poetry ever written? Granted, not every actor is great, not every production is flawless, but, as a rule, these are life-changing experiences. Especially for a theatergoer.
Glen Roven
The Dakota
When I was kid trying to escape the monotony of Flatbush, I’d take the D train across the bridge each Saturday to the place I really belonged: Manhattan. Despite all the mysteries and glories I discovered , I remember the rush I got walking up Central Park West and coming upon that behemoth of a building for the first time, that German Gothic, French Renaissance, English Victorian cacophony called the Dakota. Of course, I didn’t know the architectural styles when I was 15. I only knew this wasn’t Brooklyn. This wasn’t Flatbush. This was glamour. This was sophistication. This was Manhattan. Although half-shutters mask the first floor windows, you can still peer into an apartment or two, now as then; I was dazzled by the enormous rooms, and the spectacular architectural details. I remember wondering, “Who lives here? What kind of people can be surrounded by this luxury.”
Of course this was before December 8th, 1980 when John Lennon was killed outside. Now tourists come by the score to pay their respects and /or gawk. But, when I first discovered the building, it’s pop-culture claim to fame was that it was was where Rosemary’s Baby was set.
The Dakota was designed by Henry Hardenburgh who also designed the Plaza Hotel. Legend has it that it was called the Dakota because it was so distant from the then urban hub. About ten years ago the grime of New York City was sandblasted away and now, instead of the black sooty color I remember, it’s a camel-hair tan. It seemed more gothic, more foreboding with the dirt, but I still can look at it for hours in amazement: the moldings, the terra-cotta panels, the corner pavilions and the story book gables and roofing.
Don’t try to penetrate its court yard. The ever present guard knows exactly who should be there and who shouldn’t. The apartments are for Yoko, Betty, Rex, Mia, and their friends. But we, the mere mortals, can still marvel at the magnificence. I’ve lived on the Upper West Side for over twenty-five years, but every time I walk down 72nd Street , I still become the 15 year old from Brooklyn, gazing up in amazement at my favorite building in New York.
I know this sounds as corny as the wax works at Madame Taussaud’s, but trust me, it ain’t. It’s my favorite walk offered by The Original London Walks, the group that organizes hourly tours with subjects ranging from “Charles Dickens’s London” to “Princess Diana’s London,” from “The Old Jewish Quarter Tour” to the “Beatles Magical Mystery.” Show up at the Tube Stop, meet your guide, pay your £4 and you’re off. In two hours, see and learn more about London than most Londoners will ever know in a lifetime. “Jack The Ripper Haunts” meets Sunday nights at 7:30 PM at the Tower Hill Tube and is led by Donald (the world’s leading “Ripper-ologist”) Rumbelow. He escorts his group through the East End of London describing in gory detail the wheres and hows of each murder finishing at “The Ten Bells,” the pub where the prostitute-victims drank their final pints. Despite initial protestations from visiting friends, they invariably return to my flat in a Victorian frenzy saying, “That was the best thing we’ve done in London.”
SHAKESPEARE’S GLOBE
Fact: theatre is better in London. Don’t argue. It’s true. They take it more seriously, young people go, and despite the protestations from artists that it is under-funded, the government gives the institutions buckets of money. The most astonishing theatrical experience takes place at the Globe, a recreation of Shakespeare’s playhouse, the “Wooden ‘O’” itself. What initially seemed to the cognoscenti (or “luvvies” as they’re called over here) a potentially Disney-fied experience has proven the opposite. To hear an actor deliver a Soliloquy directly to the Groundlings from a bare stage with only the sun for illumination redefines Shakespeare; in fact, it redefines theatre in general. It almost makes any theatrical innovation since 1595 seem obsolete and twee. Who needs scenery, lighting, helicopters, when you can connect, one on one, with the most glorious poetry ever written? Granted, not every actor is great, not every production is flawless, but, as a rule, these are life-changing experiences. Especially for a theatergoer.
Glen Roven
The Dakota
When I was kid trying to escape the monotony of Flatbush, I’d take the D train across the bridge each Saturday to the place I really belonged: Manhattan. Despite all the mysteries and glories I discovered , I remember the rush I got walking up Central Park West and coming upon that behemoth of a building for the first time, that German Gothic, French Renaissance, English Victorian cacophony called the Dakota. Of course, I didn’t know the architectural styles when I was 15. I only knew this wasn’t Brooklyn. This wasn’t Flatbush. This was glamour. This was sophistication. This was Manhattan. Although half-shutters mask the first floor windows, you can still peer into an apartment or two, now as then; I was dazzled by the enormous rooms, and the spectacular architectural details. I remember wondering, “Who lives here? What kind of people can be surrounded by this luxury.”
Of course this was before December 8th, 1980 when John Lennon was killed outside. Now tourists come by the score to pay their respects and /or gawk. But, when I first discovered the building, it’s pop-culture claim to fame was that it was was where Rosemary’s Baby was set.
The Dakota was designed by Henry Hardenburgh who also designed the Plaza Hotel. Legend has it that it was called the Dakota because it was so distant from the then urban hub. About ten years ago the grime of New York City was sandblasted away and now, instead of the black sooty color I remember, it’s a camel-hair tan. It seemed more gothic, more foreboding with the dirt, but I still can look at it for hours in amazement: the moldings, the terra-cotta panels, the corner pavilions and the story book gables and roofing.
Don’t try to penetrate its court yard. The ever present guard knows exactly who should be there and who shouldn’t. The apartments are for Yoko, Betty, Rex, Mia, and their friends. But we, the mere mortals, can still marvel at the magnificence. I’ve lived on the Upper West Side for over twenty-five years, but every time I walk down 72nd Street , I still become the 15 year old from Brooklyn, gazing up in amazement at my favorite building in New York.
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