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Nostalgia yes, romance no
Rascals reunion at the Academy of Music
Steve Cohen
So Kinky Boots won the Tony award as the year's best musical. Okay. Now hum any one of the love songs from that show. Anybody?
Of course you can't. I've listened to the cast CD and can't find any soft, slow ballads. And the show's spot on the awards telecast was a rhythmic accompaniment to dancers on assembly lines acting out the conversion of a factory from shoes to patent-leather boots.
That's the problem with almost all musical shows these days. Gone are the dreamy ballads like those written by Jerome Kern, Richard Rodgers and Irving Berlin in Broadway's golden age. Phantom of the Opera was the last show to allow audiences to bond emotionally with beauty and romance. It just celebrated its 25th anniversary on Broadway— the longest-running musical in history— so you'd think that newcomers would try to imitate its distinguishing feature. But they don't.
Reacting emotionally
That deficiency struck me a few days earlier when I attended The Rascals: Once Upon a Dream, a reunion of the well-known North Jersey group from the late '60s.
Some of the best bands of the 1960s sang amorously. The Beatles crooned about "Michelle" and "Yesterday." The Doors sang "C'mon Baby, Light My Fire." But most other groups seemed squeamish about professions of love. The Rascals' songs invariably had a good beat. They were catchy, but they didn't touch the heartstrings.
Their fans clearly loved hearing the old tunes, and they reacted emotionally to one song more than any other. That was "How Can I Be Sure?," with a melody as tender as its words ("Whenever I am away from you/ I wanna die/ 'Cause you know I wanna stay with you/ I love you, I love you forever").
But that song was the exception to this program.
Tumultuous breakup
It was remarkable to see the four original Rascals, now of Medicare age, looking and sounding so good. Eddie Brigati, whose only musical instrument appears to be the tambourine, moved energetically and sang strongly. Felix Cavaliere (keyboard and vocals), Gene Cornish (guitar) and Dino Danelli (drums) all sounded impressive.
Psychedelic projections reminded viewers of the hallucinatory colors associated with the Rascals' era. Interspersed with the music were video interviews with each of the band members and documentaries about their recording sessions. The men spoke of the turmoil of breaking up after less than five years as a top act, but they said little about their personal lives.
The show put smiles on people's faces as they realized that this show was more than an exercise in nostalgia: This band really was good. But they could have used a little romance.
Of course you can't. I've listened to the cast CD and can't find any soft, slow ballads. And the show's spot on the awards telecast was a rhythmic accompaniment to dancers on assembly lines acting out the conversion of a factory from shoes to patent-leather boots.
That's the problem with almost all musical shows these days. Gone are the dreamy ballads like those written by Jerome Kern, Richard Rodgers and Irving Berlin in Broadway's golden age. Phantom of the Opera was the last show to allow audiences to bond emotionally with beauty and romance. It just celebrated its 25th anniversary on Broadway— the longest-running musical in history— so you'd think that newcomers would try to imitate its distinguishing feature. But they don't.
Reacting emotionally
That deficiency struck me a few days earlier when I attended The Rascals: Once Upon a Dream, a reunion of the well-known North Jersey group from the late '60s.
Some of the best bands of the 1960s sang amorously. The Beatles crooned about "Michelle" and "Yesterday." The Doors sang "C'mon Baby, Light My Fire." But most other groups seemed squeamish about professions of love. The Rascals' songs invariably had a good beat. They were catchy, but they didn't touch the heartstrings.
Their fans clearly loved hearing the old tunes, and they reacted emotionally to one song more than any other. That was "How Can I Be Sure?," with a melody as tender as its words ("Whenever I am away from you/ I wanna die/ 'Cause you know I wanna stay with you/ I love you, I love you forever").
But that song was the exception to this program.
Tumultuous breakup
It was remarkable to see the four original Rascals, now of Medicare age, looking and sounding so good. Eddie Brigati, whose only musical instrument appears to be the tambourine, moved energetically and sang strongly. Felix Cavaliere (keyboard and vocals), Gene Cornish (guitar) and Dino Danelli (drums) all sounded impressive.
Psychedelic projections reminded viewers of the hallucinatory colors associated with the Rascals' era. Interspersed with the music were video interviews with each of the band members and documentaries about their recording sessions. The men spoke of the turmoil of breaking up after less than five years as a top act, but they said little about their personal lives.
The show put smiles on people's faces as they realized that this show was more than an exercise in nostalgia: This band really was good. But they could have used a little romance.
What, When, Where
The Rascals: Once Upon a Dream. Produced and directed by Steven Van Zandt. June 5-8, 2013 at Academy of Music, Broad and Locust Sts. www.kimmelcenter.org or rascalsdream.com.
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