Friday, January 21, 2022

I Did That

                 Radio edits are a good and bad thing.  Taking out or covering up the bad words, good.  Cutting the song down to 3:05, bad.  (Kudos to you if you get that Billy Joel reference!)  Speaking of cutting down songs and Billy Joel: I hate, Hate, HATE the cut-down version of “Piano Man”.  Just play the whole ding-dang song already!   The other song that seems to get cut down is “I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)” by Meat Loaf, the singer whose death we mourn today.

                This song came out about the time I graduated from high school and went to college.  I know I heard it on the radio during that time.  I bought the sheet music for the song after all (not that I can really play it. . .).  I saw the music video much later, and my Phantom of the Opera-loving heart rejoiced. 

                “I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)” is quite a long song.  With the full introduction and all, the song is almost twelve minutes long!  It’s no surprise the full introduction gets cut, but why, oh why do they have to cut out half the actual song?!  Sorry—I tend to get emotional about it.

                You know I’m going to describe the misunderheard lyrics, as I am wont to do.  Like most people upon hearing this song, I asked, “What won’t he do!?”  Then after listening it a few times, I realized that the “that” he won’t do comes at the end of the song when the girl says he’ll forget everything and move on and cheat on her, to which he replies, “I won’t do that.”  Awww. . .

                Well, even in my realization, I was incorrect—at least I was only partially correct.  Throughout the song he tells what he would do, and then just before the chorus he sings a phrase that begins with “But I’ll never. . .”  What is contained in that phrase is what he won’t do.  The end is only part of that.  (See what I did there?) 

                So now you know what to listen for to hear what he will do and won’t do, but you’ll have to listen to the song for yourself.  Just don’t wait for it on the radio.  The DJs may play the song, but not the whole thing.  No, they won’t do that.

Thursday, January 20, 2022

Chess, the top 40, and Thailand

 I like musicals.  I became an Andrew Lloyd Webber fan around 1989 when Phantom of the Opera was the number one musical.  From there I moved on to his other works.  In this foray into Lloyd Webber’s work, the name Tim Rice kept showing up.  Then Tim Rice’s name showed up with Alan Menken’s on Disney’s Aladdin.  Then I purchased a Tim Rice CD and, lo and behold, a hit from the 1980s was on the CD.  So how did that happen?

                Tim Rice is a lyricist—that is, he writes the words and collaborates with others who write the music to go with his words.  Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice wrote three musicals together: Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Jesus Christ Superstar, and Evita.  After these, Tim Rice wanted to write a musical about the Cold War.  He decided to take the idea of the Cold War through the chess route.  Wait, what?

                Andrew Lloyd Webber was writing another musical by this time based on a book of poems by T.S. Elliot (thereby not needing a lyricist because the poetry was the lyrics), so he was unable to work on this project.  Someone suggested Tim Rice work with two Swedish men by the names of Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus.  It turns out, these two men were members of a little pop music group called ABBA.

                From this unusual collaboration, a musical about chess and the Cold War was born.  The name of the musical?  Chess. (Surprise, surprise. . .)  I won’t go into the plot too much: there’s chess and a love triangle and Soviets and Americans.  The musical ran in London for three years and on Broadway for two months in the 1980s.  It had some revivals, but nothing really stuck.  At least productions of it haven’t stuck.  The songs, on the other hand. . .

                A concept album for Chess was released prior to the musical production and was well-received.  Some of the songs are still floating around today: Josh Groban sings an amazing version of “Anthem” on his Stages album.  And then there’s that top ten hit from 1985 sung/rapped (more like spoken in rhythm as opposed to actual rap like a rapper would rap) by Murray Head: “One Night in Bangkok.”

                Before I had become familiar with Tim Rice’s work, I was familiar with Tim Rice’s work.  I remember hearing “One Night in Bangkok” on the radio fairly frequently during my formative years.  I remember singing along to the chorus and trying to figure out what the rest of the song was talking about.  It was years later (see above) that I understood that the song was a comparison of what an average male tourist does in Bangkok and what a chess nut does there.  Or something like that.

                So what of these lyrics?  You know, of course, that I misunderheard much of the song.  When one doesn’t realize the song is part of the plot of a musical, much can be missed.

                The radio version starts abruptly because the actual introduction is in contrast to the song’s style, so it does not get played much.  The song begins with the words: “Bangkok, Oriental city. . .”  My mistake. . . it is “Bangkok, Oriental setting.”

                It goes on talking about the city not knowing it is getting the crème de la crème of the chess world and it will be “a show with everything but Yul Brynner.”  Yul Brynner being the actor who played the king of Siam (the old name of Thailand) in the movie “The King and I” (which is a different musical).

                The next part didn’t make much sense to me.  I heard “Time flies, doesn’t seem a minute since the [something something something] had the chess boys in it.”  The [somethings] is “the Tirolean spa”, which is a reference to a different chess match played in the beginning of the musical.  The song then names other venues (although I thought he said "menu") which hosted chess championships.

                Finally, we get to the sung part—the chorus:

One night in Bangkok and the world’s your oyster

The bars are temples but the pearls ain’t free

You’ll find a god in every golden cloister

And if you’re lucky then the god’s a she

I can feel an angel sliding up to me.

(Okay, I thought they were saying “the bars are temples but the gods ain’t free’, that is, the gods are everywhere, as are the girls

 

                Then we go back to the talk-singing which is more like a dialogue between the chess master and some others who are trying to convince the chess master to see what’s best about the city.  The chess master saying every city’s the same when all you see is the chess board.  Then comes a couple of sung lines that go past so fast that who knows what they’re saying.  Turns out the lines are “Tea girls, warm and sweet/Some are set up in the Somerset Maugham suite.”  They’re talking about some of the “sights” of the city (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), to which the chess master says, “Get tied; you’re talking to a tourist whose every move’s among the purest.”  Again, my mistake.  He says “Get Thai’d.”  We have a couple of puns going on here: Thai’d (Thailand)/tied and move (picking up women/playing chess).  Then the chess master speaks most directly: “I get my kicks above the waistline, sunshine.”

                Now we have another sung part—a different chorus this time which riffs on the original:

One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble

Not much between despair and ecstasy

One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble

Can’t be too careful with your company

I can feel the devil walking next to me.

Again we have here more double meaning in seeing the city and the chess match.

 

                The last bout of talk-singing is about the chess master’s interest in the chess match over the local sights and gets in a last little dig at the folks there for something other than chess: “I don’t see you guys rating the kind of mate I’m contemplating.  I’d let you watch, I would invite you, but the queens we use would not excite you.  So you better go back to your bars, your temples, your massage parlors. . .”

                The song wraps up with the first chorus followed by the second (with the line “And if you’re lucky then the god’s a she” replaced with “A little flesh, a little history” [I thought that was mystery]).

                I still find it strange that a song about chess during the Cold War became a 1980’s pop hit, topping out at #3 on the charts.  It doesn’t seem likely that a song from a musical would be popular, even if it was written by ABBA.  Then again, I wouldn’t think a musical written around songs from ABBA would be popular, but here we are.  Mama mia!