Boy do I have news…but first, the concert. Sunday Night I had the privilege of finally seeing and hearing the wonderful Jeff Blumenkrantz sing his extraordinary songs live. I first saw this man on a DVD of a semi-staged performance of Leonard Bernstein’s ‘Candide’, in which he plays the vain pompous Maximilian to perfection. At that point I thought of him as a character actor/singer, end of story. Then my brother pointed out that he is also a composer. I thought ‘good for him’. I didn’t actively pursue the music at that stage, coming across it by accident when I downloaded and episode of the Jeff Blumenkrantz Songbook Podcast because it featured ‘Will and Grace’s Megan Mullally as a guest star. I may have thought highly of Mr Blumenkrantz but of Ms Mullally, I thought as high as Everest. In the meantime I looked up what the Jeff Blumenkrantz Songbook Podcast actually was. What he had done was instead of recording a CD of his songs with either himself or other artists, every week for 20 weeks, he would either record one of the songs himself and speak for a number of minutes about the song and its background, OR he would invite one of Broadway’s Leading Ladies into his home studio to record a song and discuss their career. I listened to the Mullally episode which was in fact the last. She was entertaining as was expected, but the song she sang was breathtaking. ”Wow”, I thought, “this guy can WRITE”. I quickly downloaded every past episode of the podcast and became promptly addicted to all things Blumenkrantz. By the way, he accompanies each podcast himself, playing the piano and singing. Many people are not impressed by those who can do this. I am.
I was thrilled to hear that he would be coming to London, and surprised that he would be performing at St Paul’s cathedral in Knightsbridge, given the frank way he deals with his homosexuality through music. He was joined by three of the West End’s star performers, Alexandra Silber, Lauren Ward and Damian Humbley; each of whom was given ample space to shine. Blumenkrantz spoke in between numbers, providing information on when the song was written, if it was written for a show, if that show was finished (it seemed surprising that such extraordinary songs were written for shows which were not completed…). He is a delightful person to hear speak about his own work.
Apropos the Big News of the opening for this entry, the concert on 
Sunday night was when I admitted to myself that the relationship I was in at the time, was over. I was therefore a little fragile to be hearing a concert of emotional theatre music.The first big number was sung by rising star Alexandra Silber, and was entitled “I’m Free”. I relaxed as the song accessed every emotion in my body and explained it musically. The concerted proceeded perfectly, a major lyric fumble by Damien Humbley notwithstanding. The other major talent, besides that of the performers and composer, was the frequent contribution of poet Edna St Vincent Millay, of whom Blumenkrantz is obviously very fond of as a source of lyrics. Her very American choice of words work perfectly with Blumenkrantz’s virtuosic use of eclecticism. She was the first woman to receive the Pulitzer prize for Poetry, and someone whose words I am happy to hear over and over. I am known by some as someone who has no interest whatsoever in poetry…unless it is set to music.
If Sunday Night was divine, tonight was DEFINITELY offensive. It was the Press Night of the new musical ‘All Bob’s Women’ which I had been invited to. I asked a friend to tell me something about it. They said it was ‘Boeing Boeing but With Songs’. This should be amended to read ‘Boeing Boeing but With Completely Awful Songs and minus the charm, good dialogue, wit, and intention’. I can honestly say I have never seen a worse musical, and that is saying something.
The performances alone were cringe-worthy. One of the five women onstage seemed determined to sing a full tone off pitch for most of the evening. The others settled for a slight flatness throughout. The performances aside, the piece itself is irretrievably flawed. A play about a good looking creep who deceitfully shags all five women in the cast is not a suitable protagonist for a piece of drama unless he possesses enough charm and wit to keep us if not on-side, then at least interested. Bob did not. His routine is to go to the local beauty parlour (the locations in this piece were vague at best) disguised as a woman, befriend the women, find out what they want in a man, and then show up AS that man and successfully get them into bed. I know in theatre we are expected to suspend disbelief but I refuse to suspend all rational thought. Throw in an embarrassingly basic dance routine and I wanted to leave. Given I was seated in the back row on the aisle, I could have easily, but found myself paralysed, unable to move, such was the shock I seemed to find myself in. Avoid this show at all costs.
