"Jesus Christ Superstar," for example, itself suggests vaguely some fragment of stillborn Mendelssohn. But as I listened to what I was playing, I had the disquieting sense that I'd heard it all before, somewhere, in bits and pieces, in some other context. I first learned Lloyd Webber's music from "Jesus Christ Superstar" through "Evita" partly because it was current and therefore in demand, and partly because it seemed to offer promise of something new and interesting to play. Furthermore, I had decided these qualities were not solely in the ears of the beholder, but somehow in the music itself.īut where are these qualities to be found in the music of Andrew Lloyd Webber? An educated musician he clearly is. It was something that through a combination of talent, inspiration and craftsmanship caused the listener to feel. Besides, what was such an opinion worth, no matter how informed or strongly felt, when measured against the passionate convictions of others? Like the woman I had heard of in Palm Beach, who jumped up on a table at a dance where "Memory from Cats" was being played, and shouted, "Quiet, you fools! This is a work of art!"Īfter 30 years of performing, teaching, lecturing about and listening to music, I thought I knew what a musical work of art was.
Of course this was only one man's opinion - an opinion moreover one dared not utter publicly. What spell, I wondered, had this new-found "Memory" cast to obliterate all previous musical memories? What had happened to the hundreds of songs infinitely more inspired: the songs of George Gershwin, Cole Porter, Paul McCartney, Jerome Kern? Why in the midst of such plenty, had people suddenly chosen to limit their musical experience to the endless reiteration of one tune - and not a very good tune at that? Quite simply, "Memory" from the show "Cats" by Andrew Lloyd Webber had become the most requested song of the 1980s - to the apparent exclusion of all other songs except perhaps "New York, New York" for an occasional change of pace. This was the tune, the hymn, the anthem - the veritable song of songs.
In my days as a lounge player, I received hundreds of such gracious ultimatums, loosely translated in lounge language as "requests." This, however, was no run-of-the-mill ultimatum. "Stop playing whatever that is and play 'Memory from Cats,' " said the lady in the blue hat.įrom a nearby table I watched the pain flicker across the bar pianist's face. Today Washington's foremost keyboard interpreter of jazz and Broadway standards weighs in with his opinion. Whatever his talent for theatricality, however, Lloyd Webber's music remains suspect to many of those schooled in more than disco tunes and easy listening. With the blockbuster opening of "Phantom of the Opera" in New York, Andrew Lloyd Webber is once again the toast of Broadway.
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