Aficionados must know by now that Stephen Sondheim and Andrew Lloyd Webber were born on the same day, though 18 years apart. Yet centuries seem to divide the two theatre composers, as a trio of new CDs demonstrates.
Sondheim Sings is a must-have, not only for his fans but all musical theatre lovers. The masterful composer-lyricist, who continues to influence a passel of new creators, sings his own works with clarity and feeling, if not always on pitch. Does it matter? These privately recorded tracks are like hearing Moses himself, direct from Mount Sinai.
Even more, the CD includes many rarities, all digitally remastered. Songs cut from produced shows ("Multitudes of Amys" from "Company," "The Lame, the Halt and the Blind" from "Anyone Can Whistle," "Pleasant Little Kingdom" from "Follies") give an invaluable insight into the creative decision-making process.
For a workshop of "The World of Jules Feiffer" in 1962, Sondheim wrote the song "Truly Content." Used in a segment based on "Passionella," it includes the lines "To the world I'm a sweep/But inside I'm a movie star/If I just were a movie star/I'd be truly content." According to the CD's accompanying booklet, Sondheim was "amicably replaced," but the song's sentiments lived on, complete with elongated vowels, as "Oh, To Be a Movie Star" in Jerry Bock and Sheldon Harnick's 1966 "The Apple Tree." Not incidentally, both shows were directed by Mike Nichols.
The booklet (with essays by Larry Gelbart, Philip Chaffin, and Sondheim archivist Peter E. Jones) contains not only lyrics as they were sung in shows but also those revised or eliminated. With just piano backing, there's a purity here of driving melodies and words that fold into themselves. Listeners will have fun puzzling out why changes were made -- for instance, "hot off the press" instead of "rip in her dress" for "Don't Look at Me" from "Follies."
The album ends with "Send in the Clowns," not only Sondheim's most famous number but also the one on which his voice sits best. From start to finish, this is fascinating stuff.
Sondheim gets the full symphonic treatment in Bernadette Peters' Sondheim, Etc., Etc., recorded live at Carnegie Hall, Dec. 9, 1996, in a benefit for Gay Men's Health Crisis. The problem is, Sondheim isn't much in evidence in this misleadingly titled collection.
After a full-bodied overture and one of those "Ladies and gentlemen" announcements, the diva appears, opening not with Sondheim but a combo of "We're in the Money," sung in both English and pig Latin, and "Pennies From Heaven." Peters introduces the rest of the concert with a breathless "I'm here at Carnegie Hall. I can't believe it."
Her frequent comments help create an immediacy for home listeners. Her distinctive singing style makes her version of the 1916 "If You Were the Only Boy" practically ethereal. When she tackles "Unexpected Song" from "Song & Dance," she weds sentiment with a polished voice, a combination of innocence and power that is the perfect vehicle for Don Black and Andrew Lloyd Webber's melding of romanticism and bombast.
The album is heartfelt, with one of its highlights being Peter Allen's "I Never Thought I'd Break." After a while, you detect a theme: the suggestion of inexplicable loss and impossible attachment. Take, in particular, a pair of Sondheim numbers: "With So Little to Be Sure Of" from "Anyone Can Whistle" ("We had a moment/A marvelous moment"), which leads without a break into "Children Will Listen" from "Into the Woods" ("Careful the wish you make/Wishes are children"). It's a powerful twosome, the CD's best moments.
But the overall impact is both inconsistent and shadowed by the cutes. Arranged to a fare-thee-well by Marvin Laird, Jonathan Tunick, Peter Matz, Billy Byers, Dan Sebesky, Michael Starobin, and Philip J. Lang, this is a pleasant album, though not more than that.
Peters' singing "Unexpected Song" is a neat segue into Lloyd Webber's latest, The Woman in White. The current London hit is slated for Broadway in October.
The original cast album is an anomaly, recorded live at the opening-night performance. Only where applause covered songs or stage sound intruded was there rerecording. Also, the ending differs from the stage version, being quieter and more mysterious.
The score is heavy on portentous chords and crashing climaxes, as befits librettist Charlotte Jones' adaptation of Wilkie Collins' 19th-century damsels-in-distress story. What gives the music its interest is not its tunes but its underscoring, the painterly aspects that spell everything out. This is music for the intellectually challenged, calibrated to send chills up the spines of wide-eyed theatregoers, yet there's no arguing with its melodiousness. (But wait! Isn't that a bit of "The King and I" in the second act duet between Fosco and Glyde?)
The score is replete with mushy, soaring ballads: "Trying Not to Notice," "Evermore Without You," and "I Believe My Heart." David Zippel has written prosy, end-rhyme lyrics ("Off to a life of contentment and bliss/No other day is as happy as this" or "He has integrity/He's all a man should be") and matched the composer's penchant for easy listening ("I believe my heart/It believes in you/It's telling me/That what I see/Is completely true").
Michael Crawford is a deliciously hammy Fosco. The others -- Maria Friedman, Martin Crewes, Oliver Darley, Angela Christian, Jill Paice, and Edward Petherbridge -- are as intense as the music.
A bonus track is a repeat of the cheerfully parodic "You Can Get Away With Anything," also recorded opening night, but with laughter and applause intact. It's a welcome break from the heavy breathing that pervades this pop-operetta schmaltz.