| re: Confidence Man? | |
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Posted by: |
Evan 09:28 am UTC 05/02/21 |
| In reply to: | re: Confidence Man? - rockfenris2005 09:18 am UTC 04/29/21 |
| Wow lots of interesting information. First off, I sadly never purchased this Confidence Man revival cd although I wanted to. I can’t remember what was going on with myself at the time. Interesting to hear that Mary Steenburgen has history with the show. I love stories like that. I love hearing the stories about Jim sleeping all day and hardly ever coming out in daylight. I personally find the songs in the Confidence Man to be fantastic. It’s sad that they never received a proper recording treatment. Especially after Jim achieved such a level of success. I had no idea the roots to this show linked back to well before Jim had released Bat. I always assumed it was written in the late 80s. > > Here are Ray's liner notes for the 2003 album: > > I have always been a sucker for irony. That element, as > much as any other, was wat attracted me to Herman > Melville’s novel, “The Confidence Man,” as distinctive > source material for a musical. So, I can’t help but be > struck by the irony of today’s date, April 1, 2003, as I > begin to write these notes. “The Confidence Man” takes > place on April 1, 1861. > > The history of “The Confidence Man” is laden with irony. > In 1973, Joe Papp’s office called me to ask if I would > meet with an exciting young composer who was in production > with an original musical at The Public Theatre. The > composer was Jim Steinman, the musical was “More Than You > Deserve,” and the call was a request for my services as > lyricist—to contribute new lyrics and rewrite some of > those in the existing score. The meeting never > materialized. But the troubled show did, and on seeing it, > I immediately recognized what the excitement regarding > Steinman was about. > > As the result of another telephone call several months > later, Jim and I met for the first time via an appointment > at the Robert Stigwood Office. I don’t remember who > arranged it, but recall that Clive Davis was one who > encouraged it. > > That first day, Jim and I went to a grant piano outside > Peter Brown’s office and wrote a song we were both very > happy with: “Nocturnally Yours.” Jim loved the title of > the song and the novelty of having a lyricist. We didn’t > anticipate the song becoming a part of any score (much > less this one). But we agreed that a musical was our next > step. > > It was undoubtedly the enduring influence of the of the > first musical I ever saw, a revival of “Showboat,” that > led to my proposing that we collaborate on Melville’s “The > Confidence Man,” for which I would write the libretto as > well as the lyrics. Like Melville’s opus, the > Kern-Hammerstein classic was set on a Mississippi > riverboat. > > The work developed quickly. We discovered that our leading > man, William Atherton, had a beautiful tenor voice he’d > never had occasion to use, so we tailored the soaring > notes of “Milady” to him. Our leading lady was radiant > Andrea Marcovicci and our director was Leon Russom, an > actor would have been brilliant at the helm. All three had > worked with Joe Papp in the past, as had Steinman. And > wasn’t Joe inadvertently responsible for this new > collaboration? Before we had even finished the score, we > presented it to him. > > Joe said he loved it and wanted to do it right away. He > summoned Bernie Gersten to set a production date. I > remember Bernie asking him, “Are you sure?” Joe was sure. > We weren’t about to tell him how much work we still had to > do. Bernie, I believe, wisely suspected it. > > Jim and I worked even faster, interrupted only by the > initial casting sessions. The Public Theatre was also in > casting for a much-publicized performance of “Julius > Caesar.” When they couldn’t complete their targeted > triumvirate of “hot” young actors for Brutus, Antony and > Cassius, they “raided” us for Billy Atherton. When Leon > and I confronted Joe about it, he merely said, “You lost > your leading man; get another one.” Joe wasn't a man you > could reason with. Every time we thought we had acquired > another leading man—the list grew lengthy—Joe stripped him > away from us, justifying it only by contending that he > needed him for another production. Finally, when no viable > candidates remained, he said, “Well, you have no leading > man. I'm canceling production.” Joe could be chummy or > churlish, Cap’n Andy or Captain Ahab. > > I sent script and score to Len Cariou, who was in > residence at the Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis. Len not > only wanted to star in it, but also came to see me, > patting the script as he pronounced it the best musical > he’d seen since “Sweeney Todd.” To my everlasting regret, > we were never able to reconcile a production with his busy > schedule. > > Howard Da Silva became interested in directing it. > Maintaining that we should go to The Public Theatre first, > he called Joe from my apartment. He hung up the phone > uttering, in that inimitable deep, resonate voice of his, > “He’s a naughty boy … he’s a very naughty boy, Joe Papp > is.” Joe had told him he would do it if Howard would bring > him a star. Joe Papp buying into the star system—Howard > found that beyond reprehension. > > I took it to Lynne Meadow at the Manhattan Theatre Club. > Lynne has always stood for what’s good for theatre; she > and Barry Grove opted to do it. These were the days that > MTC was on East 73rd Street and every available space was > pressed into creative service. “The Confidence Man” was > assigned to the Cabaret. We opened a capsule version of > the show on April 6, 1976, for a one-month run. How’s this > for irony?: no one from our production ever attained fame > commensurate with our favourite waitress, whose name, I > subsequently learned, was Mary Steenburgen. > > Steinman called me to work on several additional > productions he was sporadically offered. Nothing came of > any of them. Eventually, our divering work habits and > career aspirations ended the collaboration. Steinman wrote > all night and slept all day; I wrote all day and knocked > off for the evening, more often than not bound for the > theater. But for Jim occasionally rousing himself in > daylight for an appointment at my apartment with a > producer or a working session with me, we generally > conferred by telephone in the middle of the night. It was > during one of those calls that he poured out his > frustration to me—he had just come from a Bruce > Springsteen concert and he had “seen the light”; he wasn’t > doing what he wanted to be doing. Enter Meat Loaf, into my > apartment and into Jim’s incipient pop music career. And > there went Jim, out of mine. Jim wanted to be the next > Bruce Springsteen. I wanted to be the next Oscar > Hammerstein. Neither of us got our wish. > > With Meat Loaf’s album, “Bat Out of Hell,” and the hits > that followed, Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” > and Celine Dion’s “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now,” > Steinman became a major pop songwriter and record > producer. With the lyrics for the Broadway production of > “The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window” and several > off-Broadway revues behind me, I wrote for newspapers and > magazines, and was nominated for an Academy Award for Best > Short Documentary, “Preserving the Past to Ensure the > Future.” > > In 1986, “The Confidence Man” was given a full production, > billed as a “world premiere,” at New York’s Queen’s > College. Staged beautifully by director Susan Einhorn, the > production, limited only by a student orchestra that > struggled with Steve Margoshes’ elaborate orchestrations > and by a talented-but-uneven student cast, brought > Steinman and me back together, prompting and inspiring us > to write several new songs for it. > > During a performance, Steinman turned to me to declare > that “Milady” was a hit song and he was going to seek a > major recording of it. He sent it to Clive Davis, who > chose it for Barry Manilow’s next “big” record—and chose > Jim to produce it. In the studio, the tracks for our > elegant thirty-two bar love song ballooned into a > nine-minute production. (Jim’s assistant began referring > to it as “Steinman’s Ninth.” Jim told me he thought > “Milady” was the most beautiful song he’d ever written. > Clive called me to say he thought it was the next “Moon > River” and that someday they’d be singing it at weddings > everywhere. Barry briefly sang it in his act, but > objecting, quite reasonably, to the leviathan production > it had become, never recorded it, and I’ve yet to hear it > at a wedding. > > Over the years, Bruce Yeko would periodically remind me > that he’d always wanted to record the score. I never saw > the point in it until, finally, he gave me a good reason > to say yes: he offered to donate all profits to Broadway > Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. Given such a worthy cause, I > suggested that rather than to cast each role, we “cast” > the songs, inviting many of the most talented people in > the theatre and cabaret to participate. The results do > better than spark—they sing—for themselves. Wishing to > perserve the original character of the full production, we > adapted Steve Margoshes’ original orchestrations. > > My thanks to Bruce, to Jeffrey Olmsted, a producer who > merited everyone’s utmost confidence, and to all the > extraordinary performers who extended themselves for the > making of this CD of “The Confidence Man.” > > > > > Reminiscing about Jim’s body of work brought me to the > > Confidence Man. My question, how did Jim come to work on > > this little seen project? What’s the origin story? What’s > > your opinion on the songs? | |
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