FROM THE ARCHIVES
a perfectly good lyric: Part one
I love great lyrics. I thrill to witty wordplay, internal rhymes, and alliteration. The cleverness of Sondheim excites me, the pure simplicity of Hammerstein fills my heart. I appreciate the skill and cleverness that goes into writing a perfect lyric. I have studied the craft of writing lyrics and know the basic rules to craft a good one. My goal is always to write the best lyric I can, and sometimes I do. But sometimes it takes awhile … like more than a decade … to get it right.
In Act Two of A Little Princess, we wrote a song for our leading man, Carrisford, to sing at his big moment of self-discovery. A man of carefree abandon and somewhat self-absorbed, Carrisford has become frustrated in a task he has set about for himself, unable to achieve what he believes is expected of him. He is tired and cranky and he goes out for a walk just when it begins to rain.
On the street, quite unexpectedly, a beggar hands Carrisford an umbrella, insisting Carrisford keep the umbrella “as a gift,” and then he walks away. That’s the cue for the song. Carrisford sings his puzzlement over why anyone would do such a thing: give a gift to a complete stranger; such an act of charity is a foreign concept to Carrisford. He is doubly confused when he examines the umbrella and sees that it is not just any umbrella – it is of fine craftsmanship, elegant as well as practical. The beauty of the gift – both the actual gift and the act of being given it – leads Carrisford to a feeling of great joy. He takes delight in this new feeling and is so overcome with it that he decides then and there to pass on this feeling by doing his own good deed of giving charity to a stranger. A gift of an umbrella leads Carrisford to give a gift to a stranger (which, though he doesn’t know this, will ultimately result in him accomplishing the very task he has previously failed to do – but that’s the rest of the play).
Patrick Ryan Sullivan
The song we wrote for this pivotal moment is “A Perfectly Good Umbrella.” Eric wrote a jaunty, joyful, soaring tune. We had in mind the same feeling exhibited in the great Bock & Harnick title song, “She Loves Me.” It’s that kind of song; at least we hoped so.
When we were preparing for our first staged reading in New York, we auditioned several actors for the role of Carrisford. Patrick Ryan Sullivan walked in and sang “She Loves Me” for his audition, and we knew immediately that we had found our Carrisford. We couldn’t wait to hear him sing “A Perfectly Good Umbrella!” He didn’t disappoint. His rendition of the song was heard in all of our New York readings and is on our demo recording. His powerful voice is matched by his innate charm and dynamic stage presence, and we couldn’t be happier with all Pat did for us and for the development of our show.
Still, there was always something nagging at me about this song. Something felt just a tiny bit “off.” Somehow, the song didn’t entirely work for me. In Pat, we had one of Broadway’s best performers, so I knew it wasn’t about the performance. In fact, Pat was so charismatic in his performance of the song, I never admitted there could be a problem with the lyric. But in the Fall of 2012, when we were holding Equity call-back auditions for the role, I heard it!
For the callbacks, we had asked the actors to prepare the final “A” section of “Umbrella” We saw several fabulous singers that day, one right after the other, singing this section over and over. And as fabulous as all the performers were, all I could hear was one word ringing in my head, over and over. “INSIGNIFICANT.”
The word had been carefully chosen for the lyric at the end of this song. It was exactly what I wanted to say in that last line, exactly the descriptive word I wanted to use. But it was sticking out like a sore thumb. “insignificant … INSIGNIFICANT!!!”
Well, no wonder! I was hearing it TWICE. I’d chosen the word “insignificant” not once but twice within the song – not just within the song, but within the same section of the song! We’d heard the word already (“…an insignificant kindness” in the third line) so when it comes around in the last line it just doesn’t have the impact I’d intended for it. It didn’t “land.” Ten years after having written, rewritten, and perfected the lyric … I sent myself back to work on another rewrite.
There's an old theater adage: “musicals aren’t written; they’re rewritten.” That certainly seems to be the case, from my experience. But it’s all for the best. Look for my next post, where I’ll show you the final rewrite.