By Steven Suskin
22 Mar 2010
Our three-part series discussing the original cast albums of Stephen Sondheim musicals — which began in our column of March 14 — focused on his first five shows, beginning with West Side Story in 1957 and continuing through the 1960s. This column discusses his mid-period, from 1970 through 1981. Our next column will continue from there, incorporating various non-Broadway works as well.
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Which is to say that when they did Company, Sondheim and Prince were long-time friends and colleagues, and Prince had already produced (though not directed) two hit Sondheim musicals. After a remarkable string of six-hits-out-of-seven-musicals, Prince turned his attention to directing. The first four efforts — two for other producers and two self-produced — were all unsuccessful, although one of them was the treasurable-if-unprofitable She Loves Me, which counts as a grand success in my book. Director Prince finally dazzled audiences with the new-style concept musical Cabaret (1966), after which he was just about ready to join with Sondheim for six musicals that changed the world. Or, rather, our world if you'll pardon the expression.
The phones didn't ring, the doors didn't chime — what we heard, actually, was a recorded busy signal — but in came Company, and how! One can generalize and say that a brave new contemporary sound rushed into the theatre on that April night in 1970, which would not be all that accurate; the sound of Company had been heard on Broadway for the prior 16 months, and not coincidentally so. Sondheim had more or less championed orchestrator Jonathan Tunick, recommending him to Burt Bacharach for the 1968 hit Promises, Promises. If the use of electronic keyboards, studio-style soundboards and invisible pit singers were similar, the two scores are anything but.
This three-part overview of original Broadway cast albums of musicals by Stephen Sondheim is not intended to analyze his work and art; if they asked me, I could write a book, but the composer most fortunately has written one of his own. Two of his own, rather, the first of which — "Finishing the Hat: Collected Lyrics (1954-1981) with Attendant Comments, Principles, Heresies, Grudges, Whines and Anecdotes" — is scheduled for a late October release. Mr. Sondheim being an incisively analytical observer, this one is sure to keep us occupied — to say the least — through the holiday season and on.
Our stated aim here is to merely mention in passing favored moments of the recordings in question. In Company, as with other albums in this column, the favored moments encompass about 50 minutes worth (which is to say almost the whole thing): Those busy signals and the opening number they lead to, "Company." The wryly-observed "Little Things You Do Together," peppered with a karate exhibition. "Sorry-Grateful," a tempered romantic-ambivalent trio that I can never listen to without getting caught up in the mixed sentiments. "You Could Drive a Person Crazy," a very different sort of trio for Bobby's three girls. "Someone Is Waiting," the second of the beauties of this score. "Another Hundred People," a song of claustrophobic loneliness in a city of strangers with crowded streets and guarded parks where it's impossible to connect even if your service will explain. "Getting Married Today," in which Mr. Sondheim did indeed change the course of the musical theatre, in my opinion, with one sentence: "I telephoned my analyst about it and he said to see him Monday but by Monday I'll be floating in the Hudson with the other garbage." Audiences, suddenly, had to listen in a very different way. "Side by Side by Side," an admirably contrived number leading to that shattering moment when silence follows the hero's tap break. (Was that devised by the composer, as I imagine, and described to the choreographer? No matter; it encapsulates, in one silent measure sans music, the entire show.) "Barcelona," a throw-away number with one of the more unexpectedly explosive first lines I remember hearing (although it's never been so funny as in 1970), and a similarly wonderful final moment. "The Ladies Who Lunch," which I don't suppose needs discussion. And "Being Alive," which caps the whole thing. Funny how that descending five-note figure — first heard in the vamp, then continually as counter-melody — drives the entire song, which by the time they finish is driven indeed. What a glorious ending to the song, and a glorious ending to the show, and a glorious beginning to Broadway's modern new era. Continued...



