Sure, the rhymes can be tricky, the lyrics high-speed. There are 68 words delivered in 11 seconds of “Getting Married Today,” alone. But for the pack of fans Stephen Sondheim has amassed over the years, it’s often the emotion — in one song, one melody, one lyric — that got them hooked. We asked his admirers, some of them also his collaborators, to reflect on the songs — with music and/or lyrics by Sondheim — that have stayed in their hearts. Their answers have been edited for clarity.
Audra McDonald, actor
“Move On,” from “Sunday in the Park With George”
George is quite stuck as an artist, and he feels like he’s having a hard time finding inspiration. And the character of Dot comes to him and sings, “Stop worrying where you’re going, move on/ If you can know where you’re going, you’ve gone /Just keep moving on.” It’s absolutely the truth. And the specific lyric that breaks me up every time is, “Anything you do/ Let it come from you/ Then it will be new/ Give us more to see.” That is an artist’s credo. That, to me, is like a Bible verse that I return to over and over.
James Corden, actor
“Not While I’m Around,” from “Sweeney Todd”
“Nothing’s gonna harm you/ Not while I’m around” — it’s the purest lyric, I think, in any musical. I found it moving as a teenager when I first heard it; I find it even more moving now as a parent.
Cameron Crowe, director
“Barcelona,” from “Company”
There was a PBS special on Sondheim, and I got steeped in “Company,” and “Barcelona” really stuck out. It was like the third character in that scene was Bobby’s emerging soul. Beneath this lilting back-and- forth, push-and-pull of the song was the strong current of what was pulling Bobby to “Being Alive.” It was as rich as any Paul Simon or Neil Young song that I was starting to fall in love with.
Barbra Streisand, singer
“Putting it Together,” from “Sunday in the Park With George”
I wanted to return to my roots and sing songs from Broadway, and thought this would be a great opener to a new album. I was very timid as I called Steve and asked him if he would consider rewriting the song to be about the music world, rather than the art world. I was almost waiting for him to slam the phone down, but he thought for a moment and said, “Sure, I’ll try it.” Now that’s extraordinary — he was willing to make changes to his own masterpiece.
Joe Iconis, composer
“Who’s That Woman?,” from “Follies”
I love that it starts in this very casual way, and then it gets more aggressive, more dissonant, more tense. And then to have the final line — “That woman is me” — that’s what we’re really getting to. You have both celebration and disdain in the same lyric.
Julie Andrews, actor
“Getting Married Today,” from “Company”
Lyrically, this was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to learn. It had vocally high choral moments, and then rapid-fire dialogue. I used very small physical gestures to help trigger my memory: There’s a moment — “Thank you for the 27 dinner plates and 37 butter knives” — and I just literally, with the word “knife,” thought of something stabbing me in the stomach.
Melissa Errico, actor
“No More,” from “Into the Woods”
I’m always looking for answers in my life. What makes him so fascinating is that his songs are made up of questions. These lines stand out to me: “Running away, go to it/ Where did you have in mind?/ Have to take care: Unless there’s a where/ You’ll only be wandering blind./Just more questions./Different kind.” What he’s saying is that it’s not black or white; it’s black and white simultaneously. You’re running one place, looking for an answer, and the answer is often the next question. And that’s hard, but that’s mature.
Michael Chabon, author
“Chrysanthemum Tea,” from “Pacific Overtures”
It’s my favorite of his musicals, probably because it’s the one I encountered first. I was taken by my parents, and it was such an incredible spectacle. “Chrysanthemum Tea” has typically clever Sondheim lyrics, with twisty rhymes. And the fact that it’s the shogun’s mother, and she’s poisoning her own son — there is a thread of wickedness in his work, and that was maybe my first encounter with it. I remember laughing, and being shocked at the reveal of what’s going on.
Raúl Esparza, actor
“Every Day a Little Death,” from “A Little Night Music”
I was a student at N.Y.U. in the ’90s. It was the first semester of a musical theater class, and one of the students got up and sang “Every Day a Little Death.” It was dark outside and snowing, and I remember hearing the song and thinking, “What is this?” It’s such a simple series of tiny moments that make up a day, that seem to be completely pragmatic descriptions of everyday life, played against the unbelievable torrent of sweeping emotion underneath in the music. And that is such a classic skill of Steve’s, where lyric plays against music, and the two things together, in the ear of the listener, tell you the whole story.
Steve Reich, composer
“Finishing the Hat,” from “Sunday in the Park With George”
Musically, it’s interesting because it’s six flats: G flat major. Now, that’s not your everyday key. Harmonically, it’s really very simple, in the best sense of that word. In terms of the lyrics, it’s just astounding — the rhymes, the half rhymes, the inner rhymes — all of which are making such a heartfelt impact.
John Mulaney, comedian
“Maria,” from “West Side Story” (1957)
“I’ve just kissed a girl named Maria” is a perfect line. It is not trying to be clever, flowery, metaphoric. That’s what I would aspire to write in any joke or any written prose, television script, anything. It’s the clearest thing, and it’s what that character would say.
Tituss Burgess, actor
“First Midnight,” from “Into the Woods”
“You may know what you need/ But to get what you want/ Better see that you keep what you have.” To me, that speaks to ambition. It speaks to having to make very tough decisions. It speaks to the heart of what sacrifice means, what compromise means, what negotiation means. It’s very smart advice.
Trey Anastasio, lead singer (Phish)
“Mr. Goldstone, I Love You,” from “Gypsy”
My mother was a huge fan of Broadway’s golden age. She had all the original cast recordings, and she gave them to me when I was about 10 years old. “Gypsy” was the one that I played until it wore out the grooves. My childhood favorite was probably “Mr. Goldstone”: “Have a lychee, Mr. Goldstone/ Tell me any little thing that I can do/ Ginger peachy, Mr. Goldstone/ Have a kumquat, have two!” The show had a huge effect on my career, as crazy as that sounds. It was just a giant, giant part of my musical upbringing and landscape.
Susan Choi, author
“Send in the Clowns,” from “A Little Night Music”
The memory is like a film clip: the camera points down at a small patch of dirt that is no longer farmland but isn’t yet lawn. It’s scrumbled full of gravel and other unsightly litter from the nearby building lots. And there’s a soundtrack: Judy Collins’s version of “Send in the Clowns.”
I know the place: the undeveloped lot directly bordering my childhood home, making an unsightly seam with our new-seeded lawn. And I know the time: 1975, right after my parents and I moved into our first, and as it turned out last, suburban home. But why the song?
Before that house was the ignominy of rented apartments, and after came the downslope of illness and divorce. But for the moment, we possessed the stage-set of a prosperous life. I couldn’t have known, at age six, that our show had a limited run — and yet, long before adulthood, my empty-lot explorations, in memory, became fused to Sondheim’s rueful music and words. It’s as if, despite those gaily-clad trapeze artists I imagined for “you in mid air,” I sensed the empty pageantry of our suburb, and how poorly-cast my parents were in their marital roles.
Jason Robert Brown, composer
“Franklin Shepard, Inc.,” from “Merrily We Roll Along”
I played the part at summer camp when I was 16. It’s a song that tells you about a character’s intelligence, the action of the character and the effect of the character’s action. The song makes stuff happen in the show. And yet what I find most amazing — it’s a fairly unlikable thing that this person is doing — is just the real faith in show business. It’s a song that the audience can’t help but want to cheer on.
Source: Theater - nytimes.com
