Rick

I discovered two of my favorite musicals, shows that would help shape the artistic shit disturber I am today, when I was fairly young. The first was 1776, not just an incredibly well-written musical, but an actual thriller that keeps you on the edge of your seat, even though you know the ending. The second show was How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, the fiercely cynical satire of American Big Business. Both shows are every bit as relevant today as they were when they written.

And both shows came into my life through my brother Rick, who died last week. He wasn't really an artsy like me, but he did play trumpet, he loved music, and he loved musicals. While my oldest brother was always in the chorus for the school musicals, Rick was always first trumpet in the pit. As his taste in musicals wandered outside the family cast albums (Hello, Dolly!, Carousel, Oklahoma!, The Music Man, The Sound of Music, et al.), during his high school years, I was still in grade school as he turned me on to How to Succeed and 1776.

It happened the exact same way both times, when he brought home the original cast album of How to Succeed and then the movie soundtrack for 1776. He'd bring home the LP (!) and start playing it, I would immediately become mesmerized and enthralled, and then I would start playing Rick's LP morning, noon, and night. Eventually, Rick would realize it was hopeless and he would officially give me the record.

I think what so thrilled me about both these shows was that they weren't love stories. Up till then, I had only encountered musicals that were love stories. And as much as I loved all those older shows, these two masterful (and in many ways, opposite) shows threw wide the doors of my musical theatre perception. I loved that almost all of 1776 is political and philosophical debate -- and yet it's still so powerfully emotional. That's when I realized that musicals aren't about love; they're about emotion.

But How to Succeed taught me an opposite lesson (though I wasn't aware of it at the time), that almost all the rules of musical theatre can be subverted, including the idea that musicals are about emotion. In the right hands, a musical can be as cold-hearted as Threepenny, Chicago, or Urinetown and still make great theatre.

Or to put it in terms of New Line's current project, anything goes.

It would be a few years later that I would discover Hair and Godspell and they would open those doors even further.

But Rick brought me to three other shows as well, because he played in the high school pit orchestra for them -- Of Thee I Sing, Gypsy, and Fiddler on the Roof, three more shows that had a powerful impact on me. Of Thee I Sing was every bit as cynical as How to Succeed, but at the same time, it also had a goofy big heart. And I loved that combination; it's a blend that is now fairly common, in shows like Bat Boy, Cry-Baby, Spelling Bee, etc. I wasn't old enough to consciously register it, but I think the appeal to me was that the show worked on both the brain and the heart at the same time. That thrilled me as a budding musical theatre subversive.

And Gypsy. Well, first, Rick was that first trumpet that starts the overture, so I never hear that overture without thinking of Rick. Second, Gypsy was the first time I saw a serious musical comedy. The show used all the devices and conventions of traditional musical comedy, but it told this incredibly complex, serious story. Again, I didn't register it at the time, but Rose is bipolar and much of the show's humor comes from her manic episodes. That's some dark but awesome shit.

And then Fiddler. Mind blown again. I now know, after writing a musical theatre history book, that Fiddler's importance is that it was both an old-school Rodgers & Hammerstein musical, but also a 1960s-70s concept musical -- maybe because Jerry Robbins insisted on an opening statement of purpose, which became "Tradition," which was also incidentally the first show tune I ever learned to play on the piano as a five-year-old. I knew this score from the cast album and sheet music, but seeing it onstage was thrilling, even in a high school production. I was enthralled by the very idea of Tevye chatting with us about the themes of the story, and that may be where I started my love affair with using circles in staging.

What gifts those five shows were! Looking back, I think Rick could see my evolving tastes, and I think he enjoyed helping that evolution. I grew up with the classics, in the form of the family cast albums and our family visits to the Muny. But Rick moved me toward the innovations of the 1960s. When I got to college, my new roommate turned me on to Sondheim, and then I discovered our campus bookstore had the largest cast album section in New England. Score!

But Rick's influence on me came at exactly the right moment, after I had pretty thoroughly explored the classics and was ready to stretch. Rick helped me become the artist I am now, and I think he kinda knew he was doing that, even if I didn't.

And then Rick got married and had kids, and he brought his girls up on all the great musicals, which I admit, made me very happy.

I've had several "wise wizard" figures in my personal Hero Myth story, but as far as my artistic journey, I guess Rick was the first of them.

RIP, dude.

And Long Live the Musical!
Scott