BUBBLES IN MY BONNET, or when musicals were fun.

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More years ago than I care to count, I was staying at New York’s Algonquin Hotel, for a week or so, in my capacity as assistant-assistant-producer and neophyte casting-director (OK, assistant producer’s boyfriend) to the Harold Fielding organisation. And I’d just started writing my first (eventually) enormous book, The British Musical Theatre (2 vols). The Algonquin in those days was a crusty, ageing, delicious place of  memorable corned beef hash and bloody Marys … I thought I was in pretty swell company. Anyway, it was a kind of dream come true. Even if the windows leaked.

Ian, of course, had been there in pre-me years and he knew everybody. So I, shyly (?), soon got to meet that everybody. And there was this kid … the owner’s grandson … who wanted to write musicals. Oh, yeah, sure, everyone round here wants to write musicals, I thought superiorly, from the height of my 20-something years. Well, more fool me. Young Michael Colby has written a vast number of produced and re-re-produced musicals since those days. Oh, not the sort of musicals that you see on Broadway, with a cast of dozens and enough scenery and extras to cover up the lacks in the material. Colby’s are what I call ‘proper’ musicals. Smaller scale pieces, where you actually have to listen to the dialogue and lyrics … descendants of the Adolph Phillipp tradition in the American musical theatre …

But enough. You get the picture. Charlotte Sweet. A (sung-through) 8-handed musical play, with lots and lots of music. The score as recorded and, here, reissued on Jay Records … goodness, would it be 30 years later? … covers two CDs. The booklet doesn’t give dates, but I looked it up (because the show is on Wikipedia) and, yes, it was 1982. I remember when it first came out and I thought ‘well!!!!, blow me down’.

I haven’t listened to it since then but, this morning, I have sat down with 2CDs and a pot of coffee and, here goes! Will I still enjoy it, decades later.

Two hours later there is one clear answer! Yes, yes and very much yes. I’d forgotten how clever and inventive and funny and tuneful the show was. Is. Like Drood (and others), it is framed in a British (Liverpool) music-hall programme, which gives it its style: verging (?) on the burlesque dramatically but musically embracing not just the low comic and baby blue ballads that most folk equivate with ‘music hall’, but real singing. Faust was given its first British hearing in a music hall, operatic selections were the highlights of the programmes, and Marion Hood, the Mabel of The Pirates of Penzance, was a Liverpool Jewish (née Isaac) music-hall singer before her Savoy Theatre triumph. Charlotte composer Gerald Jay Markoe has included all the elements of real nineteenth-century music hall in his happy score, with our heroine skittering up to Z in alt in what is a delicious display of widely ranging solo and ensemble vocal music.

I’m not going to attempt to detail the intricate-ish plot, but it circulates around sweet (high) soprano Charlotte’s forced co-option into a ‘Circus of Voices’ run by dastardly, lecherous Barnaby Bugaboo and her last-curtain escape therefrom, to her beloved Ludlow Ladd, after a last scene with as many dead bodies as Hamlet, by stratospheric (no, I’m not going to tell you, but it’s the best ending in musical theatre, EVER) means …

In the sung-through score, there are nevertheless take-out features. My own particular favourites, as heard on this recording, are the ensemble ‘Liverpool Sunset’ and the original and delightful ‘Bubbles in my Bonnet’ sung by Cecily (Merle Louise), the super-vibrato singer of the Circus, in the first act, and, of course, our Charlotte’s (Mara Beckerman) high soprano set-piece ‘Lonely Canary’, which should be required performance material for all those gals who sing ‘Glitter and be Gay’ or ‘I Want to be a Prima Donna’ interminably.

The mostly original cast lend themselves to the fun (if not exactly to Liverpudlian accents!) and the music so wholeheartedly that one can almost see the performance, but I must say that if I were casting this piece (and wouldn’t I like to!) I’d cast the villains with a plunging legit basso and a basso legit contralto, to balance the sopranos of the piece. Imagine Bugaboo’s villainous Act-One closer thundered out by a Leon Greene rather than a Thenardier! Maybe some one will do that one day. For this piece is a thorough treat, which all provincial and repertory theatres should look at doing, rather than the often skinny versions of ‘big’ over-exposed musicals that they thrust at us. Or an umpteenth revival of Little Shop of Horrors.

I’ve had a really enjoyable two hours. And … what’s this? There’s another CD in the package. Tales of Tinseltown a movieland music. Movieland? Hmm I know little of movieland. Well, another morning. For now I’ve got ‘Bubbles in my bonnet’ and I’d like to stay that way. It kind of sums up the whole last two hours. Whee!

Harness Racing in New Zealand. Am I the only rat packed and ready?

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I feel a little ungracious. I wrote this piece a fortnight ago, but haven’t got round to posting it. And in that fortnight, Harness Racing New Zealand has ventured on some considered changes to try to stop the sport withering away. But are they changing the right things? Are they going to succeed in making the playing of the game less elitist and more popular? More fair. Well, not so far. So I’ll post this anyhow.

IS THIS GOODBYE?

‘Since I first fell in love with New Zealand harness racing – sixty years ago, the year that Somerset Lad won the Nelson Cup – and since I got involved, forty years later, as a fairly small-time owner, breeder and ephemeral (sadly) amateur driver, the world of what is, curiously, still called ‘trotting’ Down Under has changed. Changed, alas, in such a way that now, after twenty years of much glorious fun, I’m preparing to say goodbye.

Last week I bought a share in a wee Aussie galloping filly.

Why? Well, of course, I’m going to tell you.

I bought my first horses, when I was younger and sprightlier, to have fun being a wee bit hands-on and traipsing the country circuits with them. OK, I’ve been lucky enough, since, to have had a few metropolitan wins, too, but that’s not what I really came in for. And, progressively, the non-metropolitan meetings and tracks, are vanishing, and the townie nights (yes, nights instead of days) with their high-profile teams and trainers, their mobile starts (of which more anon), and their sprint races are taking over. With the blessing of the hierarchy. Sorry. If I had wanted to race a horse in America, I would have done so. I’ve already raced in France (by far the most well organised) and in Australia (with amazing success), so New Zealand … well, grow up or die.

So, what do I dislike, now, about New Zealand harness racing that I didn’t in the 1950s and 1960s. Or even the 90s. A few examples.

(1) I much prefer daytime racing to night racing … I presume the change has been made for gambling reasons … I don’t bet.

(2) Mobile starts. Grotesque. Artificial. For trainers who can’t be bothered to teach their horses to stand and start. And there are way more false starts and accidents from the mobile than … bah! And the machine wobbling dangerously along on grass!??? Wait for a fatal accident. See (5)

(3) The sweepstakes. Sires and Breeders and Sales. No, it’s not sour grapes. We won the Victoria Breeders Crown 3yo fillies heat a few years ago, but I wouldn’t pay up now. In NZ, we have boring 6-horse heats (maybe 4 from the one stable), and they are nowadays quite simply a risible drug on the market.

(4) The programming. If you want to be able to train and race your horse effectively, you need to have accessible races for him/her to run in. I shifted my operation from Nelson to Christchurch, to be in the harness-racing capital, with hopefully the sort of opportunities and options one has in Australia or France. No such luck. Weeks go by, at certain times of the year, with no local-ish races, no maiden or C1 races, no trials even, some meetings are entirely b**** mobile starts … so you keep your horses in training, waiting, wasting time and money … oh no, not in the grown-up countries, you don’t.

(5) Starts. This should have been resolved years ago. Stand versus mobile, of course. I’m a 100pc stand man. But I won’t go into that. I reckon more false starts are caused behind the hairy gate than from a stand regulated by a competent starter. But one can’t wholly blame the starters. They don’t have firm rules. For me, any horse that rears up, turns away, or refuses to take its place when called, should be sent immediately to a third row. Any horse which disrupts a mobile start: disqualified. The NZ system is too mimsy. Too limp-wristed. And too open to abuse by smart drivers waiting for a certain moment, or worse … in France, they would be fined and/or kicked out.

(5) Breaking horses. This (along with starts) is my biiiiiig bugbear. The sport (not ‘industry’ … come on, they still call football a ‘sport’) is called ‘trotting’ (or, at a pinch, ‘pacing’). That’s what the horses are supposed to do. Yet, in New Zealand, a horse can gallop for 100 metres – preferably losing only a smidgin of ground (there are a couple of drivers who are particularly good at that!) --  and still be allowed to compete in the race. Here, again, France has it right. Break stride for more than a few steps (15 max), and disqualified. Break in the home straight (5 strides max), or even go roughly: disqualified. And disqualified means pulled out of the race. No mimsies in France.

So they have better-trained horses, mostly better trainers, drivers and notably horses, because if you are ill-behaved you don’t get in the stud book.

So, why, you may say, do I not go and race my horses in France or Australia? Well, I have done. But I don’t live in France any more, and my wee Aussie flat has a ‘no animals’ rule. And I like to live with my horses, just as I used to like to drive them. But the point is, I’ve long loved New Zealand harness racing … it’s what I grew up with from the age of ten … why has it become so poorly regulated, why a mess of such ridiculous ’rules’, why such an … an unfriendly arena, except for anyone with many more millions to waste than I?

Well, they don’t have troubles with start(er)s and breakers and all that other stuff in the galloping world. So … here I go. Maybe our little Stratum filly will be a champ.

But I would love to get to fifty lifetime wins (I think I’m at 48) before I sign out totally! Go Montmorensy (NZ, 2 wins), Livia de Gerolstein (Tasmania, 11 wins) and Dynamite Paul (NZ, 0 starts)! It’s last chance corral time.

Postscriptum. I see that one issue that is being addressed is field selection. Points system? Why? There is one indiscutable way in which to select fields. Money won. The C0, C1, C2 system is being manipulated too often. How many horses come second ‘on purpose’, and amass dollars in a lower grade that are rightly the profits of other horses? Just like the Sweepstakes horses that accidentally don’t qualify for the final and get to run in a well-endowed consolation …

Money won. Then there is no ‘selecting’ to do, and no one can complain …

 PPS One thing that Canterbury, New Zealand, does better than anywhere else I have been is ... Race Images photography... pictured largely (the good ones) above:

(1) Davey Crockett wins me my first race
(2) The Stratum yearling

(3) Rickster Quirk takes Gwen round Manawatu birdcage (photo: me)

(4) Rosy des Baux before her first win at Domfront (photo: me)

(5) Livia de Gerolstein wins her eighth race in Victoria

(6) Agnes de Gerolstein ... almost made it

(7) Montmorensy ... maybe my last winner?

(8) Seppl ... the best trotter I ever bred and raced

Little things ... that give so much joy ...

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There are little, seemingly insignificant things, in daily life, which can matter so much to a person who … Little, sweet things that everyone can do, that no one really even considers, except for the few who can’t  …

So today was a wee bit special for me.

Everybody likes a swim in the sea. Or even a paddle. I think my last of both was in Port Vila or Santo with Ship’s Officer Catrina Morley or maybe at Zipolo Habu … what? six, seven, eight years ago. Because, since my stroke, I haven’t been able to do (a) – I know doing frog stroke with just one operative leg is not impossible, but it is for me … and as for (b) well, its hard enough walking and standing sticklessly up, steadily, on land, but as the sea rips in and out around you, pulling one way then the other …

So I’ve been making do, these recent seaside days, with a refreshing dip in the swimming pool.

But, earlier this week, I got up the courage to scale the excellent path (handrails!) from The Cove down to Yamba’s Main Beach.  And, there, I watched the young folk playing beach cricket and dipping in the sea, surfing (sort of) and splashing. 

And my insides went ‘awwwww’. I thought of those special days when I used to drive our horses on the beach, and walk in the water … days all gone. Oh, dear.

I thought about it for two days. And this afternoon I trekked down again. A sunny but rather wavy day. Beautiful. Crashing surf. But Monday, so only a few bathing belles and one inept surfist. And I put a foot in the water. Then two feet. Cold. Heavenly. Whoops! Here comes a wave … and a bigger wave … I’m up to my knees … and whoops! Almost to my waist! Out goes the wave, and just as I’m steadying into the rip from one side, it changes to the other … but I’m still standing. Wouldn’t it be great to sit down … and let the water flow over my body …?

No. There’s only one bathing belle left and she’s reading a magazine. The non-surfist is preoccupied by his ineptitude. Maybe next time. When there are more 'safe-watchers' at hand.

Up the hill, glowing with pleasure and pride … ‘you never know what you can do until you try’ … my little land mark for the day. And it felt soooo good after all this time. Sigh ….

Noel Coward: in 4 discs for posterity

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I wrote this piece, after a marathon listening session, this morning, for the German publication Opera Lounge. It will, of course, appear there in the German language. So I enshrine it here in the English language for any English speakers who may be interested.

COWARD SINGS ...

Noel Coward. His name has become a kind of cliché, in the decades since his death, as the epitome of the clipped, English witticist of the twentieth century. He is, nowadays, credited with as many ‘bons mots’ (real or invented) as Oscar Wilde. But there was more than just bons mots to Mr Coward. He wrote plays, revue material, lyrics, music and libretti – that last, curiously, with notably less success than the others – and he performed as well. As an actor and as an entertainer. I’m not to going to go into the story of his life, that’s been done umpteen times, or his career, with its ups and downs, nor his ultimate metamorphosis into an English Eccentric Ikon. I’ll just speak of this set of recordings.

Ikons need their museum keepers, and Noel Coward knew what he was doing when he appointed a young man by name Sheridan Morley as his literary executor and the keeper of his flame. No one could have cared for the Coward legacy over the years with more distinction and tact. Mr Morley, sadly, has now left us, too, but he has left behind him a solid foundation for the safe preservation of that legacy, part of which is this four-disc annotated compilation of Coward’s recordings for His Master’s Voice. Yes, four discs.

Noel Coward and Ian Bevan at rehearsals for Sail Away

Unless you are completely gaga for Coward, you are not going to play the whole four discs in a sitting. Because this collection has a double purpose: it is not only a large selection of Noel’s songs, it is a large selection (with the odd exception) of Noel’s songs, or songs used by Noel, here sung by Noel. So you are listening to the same voice delivering often the same or same type of material for a long, long time. And, one has to admit, that it is truthfully not exactly a colourful voice. Noel had one tone, one style, a small, light voice … I suppose one would call him a ‘diseur’ rather than a vocalist. It is a voice, full of falsetto, totally suited to his light and humorous revue material, with which he made such a success in his ageing years, in his solo shows, less so to other pieces.  So it is a set into which to dip for your favourite pieces, not an easy-listening set (you have to listen to the words!) and not a play-through set. It is a set to allow radio producers to select their track(s) from among the … other bits.

The first disc, including recordings made in 1928-1932, is a fair mixture. The best bits are Coward’s renditions of his revue songs – the delicious ‘Any Little Fish Can Swim’, the not-as-flippant-as-it-seems ‘Dance, Little Lady’ and the later much-parodied ‘A Room with a view’, here in its original form. There is some splendidly po-faced spoken dialogue, with Gertrude Lawrence, from Private Lives, and a surprisingly adept version of ‘Lover of my Dreams’, but there are also several medleys from his pasticcio pageant, Cavalcade, which are not of huge interest, except for completeness, and his attempt to give his own Bitter-Sweet soprano song ‘Ziegeuner’ is frankly embarrassing.

Disc Two includes the definitive versions of the classic ‘Mad Dogs and Englishmen’ and ‘Mrs Worthington’ plus the jolly ‘Has Anybody Seen our Ship’ and the jaunty ‘Something to do with Spring’, as well as a selection from, possibly, Coward’s best stage musical, Conversation Piece. Here, fortunately, the author-composer does not try to sing the soprano songs, he merely puts on a rather risible quasi-French accent to play the leading man’s spoken part while the songs of Melanie (‘I’ll Follow my Secret Heart’) are given by the incomparable Yvonne Printemps. Incomparably. Finally, there are the three songs from Shadow Play, again with Miss Lawrence. Yes, I think between ‘Mad Dogs’ and Mlle Printemps, disc two may be my most-played.

Unfortunately, Coward didn’t come up with stage pieces to equal Bitter-Sweet and Conversation Piece again, even if his later shows did include some memorable songs, so discs three and four are devoted largely to Noel singing his and other folks’ songs. On number three, we get ‘The Stately Homes of England’ (Operette), ‘London Pride’, ‘Imagine the Duchess’s Feelings’ and ‘Don’t Let’s Be Beastly to the Germans’, plus quite a bit of ‘Noel sings other folks’ stuff Noel-style’, but the fourth disc features not only songs like ‘I Wonder What Happened to Him’ and Noel’s favourite ‘Matelot’, but seven pieces from Coward’s brilliant score for the sadly flawed Pacific 1860. Unfortunately, here we have no soprano to deliver the dazzling ‘This is a Changing World’ (my own favourite Coward romance), all the excerpts are sung by the writer. Which is fine for the humorous ‘His Excellency Regrets’ and the hilarious ‘Uncle Harry’, but makes a mess of the soprano music and means the beautiful ‘This is a night for lovers’ has to be omitted. I know this set is devoted to Coward the performer, but Mlle Printemps’s solos are included, so why not Sylvia Cecil’s?

Well, I’ve done three and a half discs. I’m up to the 1950s, and much of what follows is repeats and medleys, plus bits from the under-effective Ace of Clubs. But the set finishes with one more bit of what has become regarded as ‘Cowardesque’ humour: ‘There Are Bad Times Just Around the Corner’.Yes.

It’s a grand set, glistening with a selection of classic gems performed by the inimitable Mr Coward (and his ladies), and if there is a certain amount of padding between the highlights, well, that’s what happens when you are being ‘complete’.

All in all, I think Noel would be ‘right chuffed, dear boy’ at this memorial, and it is clearly worth its reissue.