ON THE RECORD: Texas, L'il Darlin' and "Brel Infinement"

By Steven Suskin
October 31, 2004

This week's column discusses Johnny Mercer's 1949 musical Texas, L'il Darlin' and the Jacques Brel collection, "Brel Infinement."

TEXAS, L'IL DARLIN' [Decca Broadway B0003437]
Texas, L'il Darlin' was an amiable little musical comedy that opened somewhere between South Pacific and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, displaying none of the craft or expertise of either. It arrived without fanfare, received a mixed-to-moderately favorable reception, and closed at a loss after a middlin' run of 293 performances. It was described at the time as a mixture of Of Thee I Sing and Oklahoma! without the attributes of either, a label that pretty well fits.

The plot concerned a senatorial campaign between Hominy Smith and Easy Jones — which gives you an idea, doesn't it? There's also a Henry Luce-like big-shot publisher of a weekly pictorial magazine "Trend" (read "Life"), who backs Smith and tries to manipulate the election. The likable hero, Jones, is a returning war hero. Oh, and Easy falls for a swell gal named Dallas Smith, played by one of the replacement Laureys from that musical about Texas's northern neighbor. If you've already guessed that Dallas is the daughter of Hominy, I wouldn't be surprised. Mary Hatcher played Dallas, taking the role from the girl who played it in the Westport summer-stock tryout four months earlier, one Elaine Stritch.

Texas, L'il Darlin' was one of lyricist Johnny Mercer's seven attempts at a Broadway musical. He met with success, moderately, only once; in 1956, with L'il Abner (which has as top-notch a set of comedy lyrics as you're likely to find.) Mercer's other musicals were all troubled, which in some ways illustrates the difference between pop and theatrical writing. Mercer was unquestionably one of the very best American lyricists ever; not only in the comic/charm vein ("Hooray for Hollywood," "Jeepers Creepers," "Moon River") but with searing, self-contained dramatic studies ("One for My Baby," "Blues in the Night"). And, mind you, these song titles are pulled at random; Mercer wrote great songs by the dozen. But musical comedy calls for character-generated lyrics extended over the course of 15-or-so songs; while some of Mercer's show tunes are as good as his non-show tunes, he was frustratingly unable to sustain a full-length score. This was a sore disappointment for Mercer, but there you have it.

Composer Robert Emmett Dolan was one of those Broadway music men who returned after finding fame in Hollywood. Dolan began as a pit musician in such musicals as Good News and Of Thee I Sing. He interpolated a song into the 1930 musical Princess Charming; the show wasn't much, but the song — "I Love Love" — was something of a hit at the time (and it is still pretty good). By the late thirties he was Broadway's top musical director, with credits including Arlen's Hooray for What? Porter's Leave It to Me, Kern's Very Warm for May and Berlin's Louisiana Purchase. When B.G. DeSylva — the ex-songwriter turned-producer of the latter — became studio head at Paramount, he took Dolan along. Dolan conducted and wrote the underscoring for thirty musicals in ten years. (These included "The Major and the Minor," "Holiday Inn," "Lady in the Dark," "Going My Way," "The Road to Utopia," "Blue Skies," "The Bells of St. Mary's" — and the list goes on like that.) He picked up eight Oscar nominations along the way, too.

But Dolan was, for all of this, a Broadway guy. He teamed with Mercer for two musicals; the second, Foxy (1964), had a far better score than Texas, L'il Darlin' though it met with less success. Texas features a yodel song, if you like yodel songs, and a hootin' owl song, and a caustic duet about "Politics" that looks forward to "The Country's in the Best of Hands" (without the sparkle). I am, as always, glad to get yet another one of these rare musicals on CD, but that's about as much enthusiasm as I can muster. Decca Broadway has Look Ma, I'm Dancin' on deck, for which I can generate considerably more excitement.

The relatively brief, eight-track Texas, L'il Darlin' has been paired with an abbreviated version of the soundtrack album from "You Can't Run Away from It." (They give us the songs without the underscoring, which is fine by me.) This was a poorly realized 1956 update of the classic "It Happened One Night," with a handful (but only a handful) of songs. The fading cinema star June Allyson played Claudette Colbert opposite the up-and-coming Jack Lemmon as Clark Gable; go figure. (Allyson's husband, Dick Powell, directed.) Mercer wrote the songs with composer Gene de Paul, his collaborator on Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954); L'il Abner came next. The four "You Can't Run Away from It" songs are minor efforts, not up to the level of "7B47B" or Abner. However, Stubby Kaye — the future Marryin' Sam — sparks "Howdy Friends and Neighbors," and there's a June/Jack duet called "Temporarily" which looks forward to "I'm Past My Prime."

BREL Infinement [DRG 5578]
I have given up trying to explain the magic of Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris. I suppose the original cast album [Sony Classical SK 89998] must sound a little dated today, at least to people who weren't around in 1968 to see it at the Village Gate (or one of the other venues around the country where it enjoyed long sitdowns). Hair, which opened in its successful Broadway version three months later, was far more influential in the long run, and certainly reached more theatregoers. Even so, the 1,847 run of Brel (in its tiny home) managed to best Hair by 100 performances, with the two shows closing on the same July day in 1972.

Brel returned to town a mere ten weeks later, reopening on Broadway at the Royale for a not-especially well-attended 51-performance run. (Conditions on Broadway were so poor at the time that the long-running Off Broadway hit You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown, had made a similar, and similarly unsuccessful, transfer to the Golden the year before.) But for those of us who were there — and, I suppose, those of us who were susceptible to its message — the songs of Jacques Brel were quite something, especially at a time when the best Broadway could come up with were Henry, Sweet Henry and The Happy Time.

At any rate, I am not here to win converts to Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris. Rather, I am here to report on "Brel Infinement," a 40-track, two-CD collection of — I suppose — the best of Jacques Brel. Infinement means "infinitely," a word that Brel apparently liked (and a word that the liner notes tell us "describes the way his great work will live on"). Jacques Brel is no longer alive and well and living in Paris; he died there in 1987, which makes Infinement a twenty-fifth anniversary celebration. American fans of Brel, who know his work mostly through familiarity with Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris, will find "Infinement" infinitely rewarding.

The reasons we are going to like this even if we don't speak a word of French, you ask? First, and foremost: As much as you might enjoy some of the performances on the Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris cast album, Brel's vocals are remarkable. Not only does he outdo Mort Shuman, who co-conceived and translated the American version; he reclaims songs that we might have thought belonged to Elly Stone. Second: The folksy, small-combo arrangements that we are accustomed to turn out to be drastic reductions of the originals. Imagine the songs of Frank Sinatra sung by four singers on a West Village postage-stamp with five musicians, and you can understand what might be missing. Brel, at least by the time he made these recordings, seems to have had access to whatever he wanted musically. I have always been very happy with my Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris cast album, but the versions of "Infinement" are as color is to black-and-white.

Brel-the-singer is incredibly powerful. The emotion is absolutely searing, on song after song; those of us with little or no French might have no idea what he's singing about, at least on the non-Alive and Well songs, but no matter. The power comes through, almost startlingly so, again and again. Brel wrote his own lyrics, as well as the music for most of the later songs; the music for the earlier ones is mostly by Brel and/or Gerard Jouannest.

For people who appreciate Brel but think they needn't bother, let me assure you that the songs we know comprise only half of the album. There are plenty more of equivalent or even greater power, starting with "Ne Me Quitte Pas."

The liner notes tell us that Brel was not impressed when he finally caught Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris in 1969, saying he "felt like a chicken who hatched a duck." While Stone and Shuman aren't exactly chopped liver — or a bit of patι, if you will — Brel, himself, is infinement.

—Steven Suskin, author of "A Must See! Brilliant Broadway Artwork" [Chronicle Books], the "Broadway Yearbook" series, "Show Tunes," and the "Opening Night on Broadway" books. He can be reached by e-mail at Ssuskin@aol.com.