10 Broadway CDs: I [Don’t] Get a Kick Out of You

Marie Christine, summer of 2000. I picked up the Original Broadway Cast Recording from Barnes and Noble, and within moments, I was lost in the music and the story.

There’s nothing quite like buying a Broadway Cast Recording for a show you’ve never seen. It’s a little like getting a book on CD. You get to experience a show for the first time. There are plenty of shows out there that have closed on Broadway for which there is little chance that many of us will ever get to experience on stage—Wildcat, Triumph of Love, Do Re Mi—and the shows’ only chances of surviving are people picking up the OBCRs.

But for every Marie Christine, Ragtime, Parade, there’s one of those CDs you listen to here and there, recordings that never win a place in your heart. Here are ten from my collection.

All American—This was one of those browsing through Barnes and Noble, “Hey, this looks like it could be a rare gem” purchases that never paid off. Ray Bolger, you steered me wrong! It’s not that the songs aren’t fine. There are some fun satirical songs, like “It’s Fun to Think” (which I often wanted to play for my high school students at my last teaching position), but as a whole, the story never lifts through the songs, and the songs never jump from the disc. Plus, it doesn’t help that Eileen Herlie’s voice, at times, reaches nail-on-chalk-board proportions, which was probably effective for her character on stage but is less tolerable in my car.

Barnum—Talk about a charming, humable score. Cy Coleman and Michael Stewart really knocked one out of the park with Barnum, the circus/autobiographical musical which starred Jim Dale and Glenn Close on Broadway. Never having seen the show, however, it seems more like a great pop album rather than a cast recording. Song after song after song is great—“There is a Sucker Born Ev’ry Minute,” “The Colors of My Life,” “One Brick at a Time,” and many others. But when you pop in a Broadway Cast Recording, you’re looking for something different than when you pop in a CD from Jordin Sparks or David Cook. You want a full story, rich with characters, and Barnum just doesn’t give you that. Perhaps after I see the DVD of the show, I’ll listen to it more. Until that time, I’ll think fondly of it, then pop in Hairspray instead.

Bombay Dreams—I honestly got what I deserved when I went into the store to get Passion and walked out with Bombay Dreams (though in my defense, they didn’t have Passion in stock). I’ve written about Bombay Dreams before, so I’ll work on not repeating myself, but there are some good songs on the disc—“Shakalaka Baby” is infectious and addictive as is, to a lesser degree, “Chaiyya Chaiyya,” and “The Journey Home” is pretty moving. Most of the other songs, though, are too repetitive and lacking in lyrical depth. “Like an Eagle,” for example, repeats itself so many times, you can’t listen to it all. I can’t help but feel that on stage Bombay Dreams was plenty of fun, but on disc, there’s no spectacle to bedazzle you away from its weaknesses, the very little hint of story or character.

Children of Eden—I got this CD used for an amazing price. I’m awfully glad I didn’t pay full price. I don’t know if I’m failing the musical or if the musical is failing me; I honestly believe that I will probably love the musical if I ever get a chance to see it performed. Until then, I’m not a big fan.

I am a huge fan of Stephen Schwartz’s work, but I don’t think I’ve ever made it all the way through both Children of Eden discs (though I have been known to earnestly attempt it). My theory is that the story isn’t strong enough. Not that the sources material isn’t—how many centuries has that survived—but the music comes across as “This happened, then this happened, then this happened,” so that, while it is in essence telling one coherent story, it doesn’t come off that way on disc.

A Christmas Carol—For the longest time, I thought I wasn’t getting into Alan Menken and Lynn Ahrens’ score to A Christmas Carol because I wasn’t listening to it enough. I’d often pop it in only around Christmastime and then contemplate why I wasn’t absorbed into it.

There are few tunesmiths as talented as Alan Menken, and Lynn Ahrens is a genius as well; however, their score to A Christmas Carol simply lacks a “stick-to-your-ribs” quality. As with the other scores in this list, there are strong songs in the score—“Link By Link” and “A Place Called Home” are two whose melody and lyrics I recall with fondness—but perhaps it is the familiarity with the story or something else, but I just don’t get into the score like you would think I would.

Destry Rides Again—I bought this recording based on the recommendation Destry Rides Again got in Ken Bloom and Frank Vlastnik’s original edition of Broadway Musicals: The 101 Greatest Shows of All Time. There’s no reason why it should not be a great album—Andy Griffith and Dolores Gray are the leads. The music and lyrics are by Harold Rome. There are plenty of fun songs and strong performances on the CD, particularly Gray’s charming “I Hate Him.” But somehow, it never all comes together. Perhaps the story—about a sheriff without a gun reforming a crime-ridden town and falling for the mistress of the residents of the residence of ill repute—isn’t strong enough. Perhaps the songs don’t do enough. Maybe “Anyone Would Love You” is a signature moment in the score, a song so studiously ripped off from a Rodgers and Hammerstein score, you can’t help but skip over it. I don’t regret getting Destry Rides Again—it has such a nice cover and liner notes—but I also don’t listen to it often.

Do Re Mi (1999 Cast Recording)—This was another score I bought after seeing it in Bloom and Vlastnik’s Broadway Musicals: The 101 Greatest Shows of All Time. Overall, I’d say they made great choices, but here was another one in the “Not So Much” category. Heather Headley and Brian Stokes Mitchell’s songs play really well, including Headley’s hilarious “What’s New at the Zoo.” The rest of the score, however, feels rushed. Jule Styne, Betty Comden, and Adolph Green wrote one of my favorite scores—Bells are Ringing—but here, the lyrics fall awkwardly on the ear, refusing to rhyme when it feels like they should, ending before they seem completed. The characters seem to have some charm, but when everything written for the supporting characters of John (Mitchell) and Tilda (Heather Headley) soars, it only shows how weak the rest of the show is. By the end of the score, you’re only concerned about hearing “Cry Like the Wind,” “Fireworks,” and “What’s New at the Zoo” again. After I got Do Re Mi, I pretty much had to force myself to listen to it the whole way through.

First Impressions—As a Jane Austen fan, I rushed out to order First Impressions after I read a negative review on TheaterMania.com. Yeah, the reviewer was right after all. I once wrote an entire column on the thought of a Jane Austen musical, so I won’t repeat myself here, but the score simply doesn’t work. First of all, the show isn’t authentic in feel. The choices aren’t even made out of mis-visioning, but the heavily-spoken score seems to be trying too hard to be My Fair Lady. Either way, the score doesn’t do justice to Pride and Prejudice, and with one or two exceptions, the songs just aren’t that good.

Martin Guerre (1999 Cast Recording)—I’m one of those types who loves Les Miserables, but Martin Guerre simply doesn’t do anything for me. I love expansive, epic scores, but my feeling is that the plot for Martin Guerre doesn’t match the vision of the creators. I haven’t listened to the recording for awhile—and to be fair a number of songs have stuck with me over the years—but my memory is that most of the second half is a court trial. A court trial as a key setting doesn’t strike me as terribly engaging on stage. It work for two songs in Hello, Dolly!, but Martin Guerre is more People’s Court: The Musical than Night Court.

Raisin—A Raisin in the Sun is one of my two favorite plays (tied with The Crucible), and I have immensely enjoyed reading it multiple times as well as teaching it a few times. Reading the libretto of Raisin (available because it is licensed by Samuel French) shows that Raisin was likely a very enjoyable show on stage, but the score is perhaps too bound to the intimacy of the original play to thrive independently.

There are some very fine songs—“Not Anymore” is a particular favorite, a dark comedic number where the younger Youngers explain to matriarch Lena about the man coming from the Clybourne Park Association to keep them from moving into a white neighborhood. “Man Say,” “Runnin’ to Meet the Man,” and “Measure the Valleys” are all strong enough, but the score never fully engages you in the story, despite its strong rooting in Lorraine Hansberry’s original brilliance.

the Broadway Mouth
December 13, 2008

Salaam Bombay Dreams DVD

Okay, I have a confession to make. I um, how do I put this . . . I walked into Barnes and Noble about two years ago intending to buy the OBCR for Passion and walked out with Bombay Dreams.

There, I said it.

Now that I’ve completely compromised all my credibility (but am happy to be moving on in life with a much lighter load), please allow me to explain before you justly judge me for my shameful actions. Please.

You see, I already owned the Passion DVD, and I had seen “Shakalaka Baby” performed on Good Morning America. That song was so infectious that I knew the CD would be filled with such other interesting melodies.

So, as those of you saw the show know, I got what I deserved. There are a lot of infectious melodies with that danceable Eastern Indian flavor, but A.R. Rahman’s fresh melodies are incongruent with Western musical storytelling song structure, leaving me with a CD that is more awkward than fun. For example, the song “Like an Eagle” is almost six minutes long with lyrics consisting of a five repeats of the chorus (no verses) with minor lyrical alterations, which, frankly, is enough to make you beat your head against a brick wall. “Shakalaka Baby” is still loads of fun, as is the infectious Hindi-languaged (I think) “Chaiyya Chaiyya,” but I’d say there’s more “Like an Eagle” than exciting theatre songs (though maybe not quite so redundant). Many people have criticized Don Black’s lyrics for the show, but frankly, I don’t think Oscar Hammerstein II could have faired much better given the musical circumstances. Take “The Journey Home,” which has some very nice lyrics (Not every road you come across / Is one you have to take / No, sometimes standing still can be / The best move you ever make) but repeats itself too much.

The sure sign of a successful musical collaboration, however, is almost always in the show itself, which I was unfortunate to not be able to see.

Still, despite my disappointment with the CD, when I stumbled across the documentary Salaam Bombay Dreams at Barnes and Noble, I picked it up. It was only $14.99, which was less than most CDs, and I’m always game about learning how shows come together to glean what new knowledge I can.

I haven’t seen anything written anywhere about this DVD (though this is probably more likely from my missing it than there not being anything), so I’m detailing it here for those of you who were unaware such a DVD existed or knew about it but wondered what it was about. Consider it an early Christmas gift.

The DVD is divided into four sections—a 90-minute documentary, a collection of interviews with key creative team personnel (including producer Andrew Lloyd Webber), a gaggle of clips, and bonus material.

The most significant aspect of this DVD, first and foremost, is that there is little on here that is of interest outside Bombay Dreams. Often, when you see documentaries on the making of a stage show, there’s much to cull from it concerning the processes of getting a show created and produced; however, because of the unique nature of Bombay Dreams, it followed a unique journey to the stage that is hardly universal.

That is not to say that the documentary is not interesting. It follows the steps Andrew Lloyd Webber took upon the generation of the idea for the show, the finding of key creative talent, and, most interestingly, the British choreographer (and assistant) traveling to India to learn from Bollywood choreographer (and Bombay Dreams co-choreographer) Farah Khan. It also includes video footage of the meet and greet, the show in rehearsal, a healthy amount of choreography rehearsal and discussion, models and discussion of the set design, the set getting installed, and the gala opening night red carpet. Sprinkled throughout are images of the final production, some of which are repeated later on the disc.

The documentary helps to explain some of the oddities on the CD, for it appears that much of the music was recorded in India with the leads, while Indian singers perform what would typically be the ensemble backup. I don’t know Ayesha Dharker’s talents, but I wonder if that explains why Dharker doesn’t appear anywhere on the CD and lip synched to Preeya Kalidas’ voice for “Shakalaka Baby.” That’s just a theory formed without seeing the show, of course.

The interview footage is also primarily interesting in relation to the show. Much of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s interview is focused on the genius of A.R. Rahman. Librettist Meera Syal’s viewpoints are interesting because she opens up about her learning experience on the show. Parts of the interviews are repeated from the documentary, and there is also footage used to connect the different segments of the interviews, be they scenes from the show, rehearsals in Britain, or from rehearsals in India. Again, like the interviews themselves, some of these are re-used clips from the documentary, and some are new.

The best part of the DVD is the footage from the show. Some of these have MTVish add-ons at the beginning or the end of the clip, but for the most part, they are well-filmed scenes from the show. They consist of the original London cast performing “Shakalaka Baby” and “Chaiyya Chaiyya,” both of which are impressive for the sheer energy in the choreography and, in the latter, the speedy costume changes. There’s also “The Journey Home” (which I believe to be the full song, including a few lyrics not on the CD) and “How Many Stars” (my guess would be a reprise late in the show). Only “How Many Stars” includes any dialogue. It would have been nice to have some context for the others, particularly since the CD provides none whatsoever (not even a plot summary).

You also get two nice additions of the music videos of Preeya Kalidas’ “Shakalaka Baby” and “Love’s Never Easy,” the latter which would have been a nice bonus on the CD. “Shakalaka Baby” is energetic and fun, as you’d expect, though the visuals of “Love’s Never Easy” seems more dated (think Vanessa Williams singing “Colors of the Wind” in 1995). It is nice, however, to hear that song performed by a woman, and Kalidas’ gentle voice handles it beautifully.

The bonus material consists of rehearsal footage from the scene in which Akaash leaves his big premiere and denies his friends, incorporating scenes from the show in performance. It is interesting in that you get to see the scene being assembled, but it is by no means a revelation of technique or anything.

There is also an interesting look at the night the Queen attended the show and all the preparations that had to go into that event. The best moment goes to Raj Ghatak as Sweetie, though, who recalls his conversation with the queen, who seemed to not know how to react to his eunuch in a dress (or sari or whatever).

Even though there are no revelatory moments, I’m glad I bought Salaam Bombay Dreams to add to my collection of theatre videos and DVDs, and being a show clip hoarder, I ate that part up. Yet, I don’t think it is by any means a must-have for theatre fans unless they were fanatics of the show.

the Broadway Mouth
September 14, 2007