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I'm standing at a blackboard on which I've drawn a staff. Give me a key!, I shout.
Someone yells "D Major!"
I write two sharps on the staff. Okay, what time signature are we in?
"4/4, Common time."
What's the feel?
Several conversations begin at once. Finally, a voice emerges: "Disco!"
Got it. I mark out four measures on the staff, and then scribble in a melody.

All right, there's the first phrase of a cheesy melody. Now we need another phrase that answers it. Who's got it?
A couple of hands go up. One guy sings some random notes in an unknown tempo, someone else starts to sing something then stops after a measure saying, "Ah, I don't know where I'm going with that," another person just sings back the phrase that I've already written. Eventually, we have three options, and two of the three end by landing on the tonic, like this:

I tell the class that if I pick a phrase that ends on the tonic, then for all intents and purposes, the song is over. The tonic tells us we've achieved our aims. Therefore, I'm going with the other option.

"But that option sounds sort of stupid."
I agree, sir. But the aim of this exercise is not to create a great song. What I'm trying to do is to create a correct song. Let's establish the rules for what makes something right; once we've done that, we can worry about how to make it good.
Now we've got eight bars. Let's discuss what to do with the next section of the melody.
I have a theory about the psychological origins of AABA structure, and it goes something like this: It takes me saying something three times in order for you to get it. So I'm going to say it once, and you're not going to get it. I'll say it again, maybe a little differently, but you still won't get it. If I just go right on and repeat it a third time, you're going to think I'm an idiot, so I have to reframe my point, give it some new context. Now I've built up to it, and you'll understand me better when I go back to my original point. And let's face it, if I've said it three times and you still don't get it, you're probably not going to.
So that's AABA structure, psychologically. Say something once (A1), say it again (A2), find some new context (B) so you can say it one last time (A3).
Therefore, since we're writing a melody that has an AABA structure (and we'll be dealing with AABA structure an awful lot in this class), we're now up to the point where we have to find a phrase that will recontextualize our original A.
What does that mean? How can we recontextualize a phrase of music? And a stupid phrase at that?
There are a couple of traditional avenues that we can walk down here. Let's explore two: First, we can go to a different area tonally. If we've been sitting in the tonic (I) for a long time, maybe we go to the subdominant (IV), like Hoagy Carmichael does in "Skylark." In "Where Or When" (Rodgers & Hart), the B section is in the relative minor (vi). Gershwin goes to the III for the B section of "I Got Rhythm."
We can also change our rhythmic energy – thus far our melody has been very syncopated; maybe we can do something more lyrical and less jumpy. Look at "The Way You Look Tonight" that we dealt with last week – the A section starts with whole notes (semibreves, if you're reading this in London or you're pretentious); the B section goes to half notes (minims). More subtle is Bernstein's melody for "Lucky To Be Me" – the A sections are built on one-bar phrases ("What a day"), and then the B section expands those out to two-bar phrases ("I am simply thunderstruck").
With this in mind, one of the students proposes the following B section for our melody:
Works for me. Even though all we've got is a single-line melody, I already have a sense of where this B section goes harmonically. And since it ends on the 5th scale degree, it leads beautifully back into our A3.
For our purposes, the first two measures of the A3 are going to be the same as the A1. So it's just a matter of wrapping this thing up. How do we close out this melody and feel like we've made our musical point?
Perfect. And I love how the rhythm in the 3rd measure echoes the rhythm in the 3rd measure of the B. Very elegant, actually. Far better than this song needs to be! But I'm not complaining.
Now we've got our sixteen-measure melody. It's time to figure out who's singing it, and why.

( Wanna hear it?)
Stay tuned.
I've been teaching a course in musical theater performance at USC for the past four years, but this semester, I was asked to come up with a class focussing on songwriting for the musical theater. I had taught writing courses at USC before, but they were solely attended by students in the School of Theater, and so I had an overabundance of lyricists and very few composers. This year's course, however, is being offered in conjunction with the School of Music – in fact, it's part of the Songwriting minor – so I was assured of a more balanced group of writers.
All the prospective students had to submit a portfolio of four songs, either music or lyrics (or both), and I determined based on those portfolios which students seemed ready and able to handle the frenetic insanity that is the hallmark of my class structure. I ended up choosing six music majors, three theater majors, and one girl who is a double major in the theater and music schools. My intention is that everyone write music and lyrics at some point in the semester – clearly some people will be better at one than the other, but everyone should know what it takes to get the job done.
For the first week, I wanted to start building a basic vocabulary of musical theater songwriting techniques, and to that end, we spent the whole three-hour class listening to and analyzing six songs I had chosen deliberately to represent a wide spectrum of styles.
1. "The Way You Look Tonight" (1936), Music by Jerome Kern, Lyric by Dorothy Fields
It's not from a stage musical, but on a quick flip through my iTunes, this was the song that jumped out at me as the most perfect and clear example of a classic 64-bar AABA song. The melody is both surprising and inevitable, as Kern so often is, and one of the students remarked on the fact that during the A sections, all the melodic jumps are downward (all those plunging fifths and octaves) whereas the B section has that fantastic jump upward at "tearing my fear aPART...". I'm also in awe of the lyric; that "Lovely" that starts the third A section, just a simple declaration, so unexpected and so conversational. A wonderful song on every level.
2. "Some People" from Gypsy (1959), Music by Jule Styne, Lyric by Stephen Sondheim
It was fantastic watching students who had never heard this iconic material get totally blown away by it. All the internal rhyme, the totally out-of-left-field dissonances of the "I had a dream" section, the pure thrill of hearing such quintessentially "show-biz" vocabulary used in such aggressive and uncompromising ways – the theater kids knew the song cold, but the music students were utterly surprised by it. I talked about how well the song is tailored to Merman's specific gifts, the way that first "But I at least gotta try" must have been so unimaginably satisfying to an audience waiting to hear Ethel do her patented belting, but prepared so dramatically and effectively. Parenthetically, I mentioned the orchestrations, which give the impression of being brassy and busy, but are in fact very restrained because of the need to support an unamplified voice; I realized that if I were orchestrating it now, I'd use a lot more of the saxes and trumpets throughout to accent the vocal, and it would be infinitely less effective.
3. "Finishing the Hat" from Sunday In The Park With George (1985), Music and Lyric by Stephen Sondheim
For people who think of musical theater as congenitally corny and declamatory, this piece comes as a shock. Experiencing Sondheim's utter mastery of form and structure in the service of such quintessentially personal content is humbling and inspiring. Look at the four times he uses "window", and how they build inevitably to the last one, the breakthrough, the catharsis – "It's the only way to see." Years ago, Lippa and I were listening to the show while driving home from Goodspeed, and at the end of this song, we turned to each other with tears running down both of our faces. I've had twenty-five years to deal with it, but there's something cruel about showing this to students who are just beginning to write for the theater – you can't help but realize that you're never going to do anything this good.
4. "Some Girls" from Once On This Island (1990), Music by Stephen Flaherty, Lyric by Lynn Ahrens
A virtually perfect song from a virtually perfect musical. "This is the benchmark," I told the students; "The bar is set right here." A deceptively simple melody (with some gorgeous harmonizations), serving a lyric that carefully, methodically sets up a devastating punch. This song is what can happen when two extraordinary talented people know the rules backwards and forwards and can deploy them with lethal precision.
5. "Here I Am" from Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (2005), Music and Lyric by David Yazbek
I love everything about this score, especially because I know how unbelievably difficult it is to pull off something that sounds so breezy. So much musical theater comedy material is campy and overblown, and the music is usually simplistic to the point of non-existent – but Yazbek is amazing in his ability to write lyrics that get actual laughs and wrap them in music that's not just harmonically sophisticated but dead-on for the character and the setting. One of the students was impressed with the simplicity of the setup; a door opens and this character that we've never met just starts singing, and within four lines, we're entirely with her. I remember sitting in the theater and hearing Sherie hit "This nice sincere Sancerre" and just wanting to throw shoes at the stage.
6. "Shiksa Goddess" from The Last Five Years (2002), Music and Lyric by ... um, Me
Because they're stuck with me all semester, I wanted to make sure the students knew something about the kind of work I do, and how it fits into the musical theatre continuum that we'd been discussing all day. "Shiksa Goddess" is a good example of the kind of stuff that makes me tick: the large musical structure supports the storytelling, and the units within that structure refer to each other but also drift independently; the lyrics rhyme only when they have to, and the flow is conversational, unapologetically specific, and always directed to another character; and the show itself speaks to something personal and real and honest. I don't always meet my own standard for what I want my work to be, but I'm never more fulfilled than those moments when I feel all the elements of a song coming together in a quirky but organic and genuine way.
It's an idiosyncratic selection of songs, to be sure, but I think it's a good indication of the sort of musical theater songwriting we'll be studying and, I hope, aspiring to. And most importantly, it's a selection that demonstrates my faith in The Song as the building block and the most essential element of a strong piece of musical theatre.
Next week: the writing begins! With tales of a garbage man, a lonely teenage wallflower, and a tap-dancing eight-year-old.
Here's how I'm getting 2010 off to a great start:
Earlier this year, in May, East West Players presented a somewhat unconventional production of my musical, The Last Five Years. I say "unconventional" because East West Players is a Los Angeles-based company whose mission is to produce "outstanding works and educational programs that give voice to the Asian Pacific American experience."
The Last Five Years is a musical about a Jewish writer and an Irish-Catholic actress in New York City. Those are the only two characters. It's about as Asian as burritos. I figured East West was doing the show as some kind of gimmick.
It was no gimmick. What emerged was a heartfelt, powerful and honest production directed by Jon Lawrence Rivera, and performed beautifully by two sensational young performers, Michael K. Lee and Jennifer Paz.
That production has been nominated for four Ovation awards, one for each of the stars, one for the director, and one for Best Musical.
Last month, I got an email asking if I would give permission to do a one-night-only "revival" of the production, as a benefit for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. I said that not only would I give permission, but that I'd be honored if they'd allow me to accompany the performance myself, both as a way to be part of this fantastic company and as a way to thank East West Players for believing in the universality of my work.
And so, on JANUARY 9, 2010 at 8 pm, I will be sitting behind the piano at the DAVID HENRY HWANG THEATRE in Los Angeles, playing for Jennifer Paz and Michael K. Lee as they recreate their perfomances in THE LAST FIVE YEARS as a benefit for BC/EFA. We may offer some additional tunes after the show as well, you never know!
Will you come join us? The website for information and buying tickets is http://www.eastwestplayers.org/BroadwayCares/index.htm, or you can call (818) 358-2730. It's a great cast, a great cause, and (oh, I can say it) a great show.
Here's the blurb:
Emchaviel Productions presents
The Last 5 Years
A one-night-only event benefitting Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS
Starring
Michael K. Lee and Jennifer Paz
And
Jason Robert Brown at the piano
Music and Lyrics by Jason Robert Brown
Directed by Jon Lawrence Rivera
Tony Award-winning composer Jason Robert Brown (Parade, 13, Songs for a New World) joins 2009 Ovation nominees Michael K. Lee and Jennifer Paz in this one-night-only performance of his critically acclaimed, Off-Broadway gem The Last 5 Years. This poignant and profound musical follows Jamie and Cathy through the last five years of their relationship, from beginning to end, and from end to beginning. 2009 Ovation nominee Jon Lawrence Rivera returns to direct this unconventional telling of boy meets girl.
Proceeds will benefit Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS
Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS is one of the nation's leading industry-based, nonprofit AIDS fundraising and grant-making organizations. By drawing upon the talents, resources and generosity of the American theatre community, since 1988 BC/EFA has raised over $175 million for essential services for people with AIDS and other critical illnesses across the United States. BC/EFA is the major supporter of seven programs at The Actor's Fund - including The AIDS Initiative, The Phyllis Newman Women's Health Initiative. The Al Hirschfeld Free Health Clinic, The Dancer's Resource and three supportive housing residences. BC/EFA also awards annual grants to over 400 AIDS and family service organizations nationwide.
Saturday, January 9 at 8pm
East West Players
David Henry Hwang Theater
120 Judge John Aiso Street
Los Angeles, CA 90012
Tickets $45, $55, $65
Click here for tickets or call: (818) 358-2730
Happy New Year to you all!
Jason Robert Brown
In the summer of 2002, I had a meeting with a producer about writing the score for a new musical based on a beloved cartoon character from the 1930's. In a dénouement that will be no surprise to regular readers of this blog, it didn't work out as expected.
The original rights-holder of this cartoon character had approval of the entire creative team, so before I could be officially hired, I was asked to write two songs that might fit in the show. In order to get paid to write those two songs, I signed an agreement stating that, in essence, if I ended up not being hired for the show, I could retain ownership of the songs but would never be allowed to state that they were written for this particular character. Because of that agreement, I am not using the character's name anywhere in this post. I think you will need about fifteen seconds to figure it out, but my hands are clean.
By the time I met with this producer, the wonderful writer David Lindsay-Abaire had already written a wickedly funny and fantastically creative treatment for the musical, and it had been approved. Since I had already written the music for two of David's plays, I knew that working with him would be a joyful and exciting collaboration, so I decided to write the two songs.
Equally important was the fact that just by reading the treatment, I knew what the show should sound like. Since it took place in a Manhattanesque city in the middle of the Depression, I heard a kind of squonky cartoon jazz, like early Duke Ellington crossed with Carl Stalling; and [ character's name redacted on advice of counsel]'s speech patterns and dialogue were sufficiently distinctive and idiosyncratic that a lyric style for the show became obvious fairly quickly – I imagined Yip Harburg as the perfect person for the job, so I tried to ape his style as best I could. (As it happens, I'm very distantly related to Yip Harburg, so I feel especially close to his work, even though our writing styles couldn't be more dissimilar on the surface.)
I looked through the treatment and picked two moments that seemed particularly ripe for singing. At the end of the first act, [ character's name redacted on advice of counsel] decides to run for Mayor, and her campaign speech is so rousing in its sincerity and optimism that the populace overwhelmingly votes her into office. And in the second act, [ character's name redacted on advice of counsel] is performing her nightclub act (in the midst of her term as Mayor, of course) and marveling at the good fortune that has brought her from life as a nobody to her current stardom.
(An explanation about the second song: Throughout the play, another character - we'll call him Dingo - is constantly dodging the owner of the nightclub, and in this song, Dingo hides on the bandstand itself, which requires him to take a clarinet solo in the middle of the song even though he doesn't play the clarinet. As his solo comes to an end, the nightclub owner sees him and he runs off the stage. That clarinet solo was played on this demo with exquisite ineptitude by my own gorgeous wife, Georgia Stitt, which I suspect she doesn't want me to publicize. Oops.)
David liked the songs a lot, as did I, so I went into the studio with the sensational Nicole van Giesen to record them. Almost immediately, I heard from the producer: the rights-holder and all of the producers loved my songs! I got the job! I was going to write a big Broadway musical comedy about [ character's name redacted on advice of counsel]!
And then I got fired.
I don't really know what happened, and the producer who had originally approached me was never very clear with me about what went on (I think there was a power-play with the rights-holder and one of the other producers), but I know it wasn't anything I did, because I hadn't written anything yet. I had two meetings with David, where we came up with a lot of great, fun ideas for the show, and then I got a call saying it was over. They hired another composer, then David quit six months after that, then the producers started over with yet another writer and composer, and then I saw an announcement last November ( five years after my involvement) that there was a whole new creative team (which sounded totally bizarre).
So whatever. The songs are fun, Nicole sings them beautifully, and you get a gloriously bad clarinet solo by my wife. And to the producers who fired me, after I had turned down other work and cleared six months of my schedule at their request to write the show, a very hearty and well-deserved [ expletive deleted].
"[Title song from show about cartoon character whose name is redacted on advice of counsel]"from [Title withheld on advice of counsel] (2003)
Music and lyrics by Jason Robert Brown
[title character]: Nicole Van Giesen
JRB: piano, tap dancing, backing vocals
Recorded and mixed by Jeffrey Lesser
Recorded at RPM Studios, NY, NY, 7/1/03
"Goin' My Way"from [Title withheld on advice of counsel] (2003)
Music and lyrics by Jason Robert Brown
[title character]: Nicole Van Giesen
JRB: piano
Georgia Stitt: claminet
Recorded and mixed by Jeffrey Lesser
Recorded at RPM Studios, NY, NY, 7/7/03
Wiley DeWeese asks, in hundreds of increasingly desperate emails over the course of the last month:
In your blog a few years back you mentioned that the script of the Donmar production of Parade would be the only version available to license starting in 2008; however, the MTI website still lists the 1999 touring version as the production available to license. Did the switch to the Donmar version ever happen, and if not, will it possibly happen after the LA production closes? I have an interest in doing the show, but lack the resources to do the larger production.
And JRB, shielding his eyes from the blinding shame, responds:
Ugh, it's true, it's all true, I LIED. It's right there in this entry:
...Starting in January 2008, the only version of Parade that will be available for license is this new one; we are withdrawing the earlier version, though we may make "Big News" available separately for those companies who have a Britt Craig that they really want to show off. Don Sebesky and I are also going to revise the original orchestrations so that you can do the show with the small band or the large one.
But here's the thing, okay, before you nail me to your cross, hear me out: It was a lie borne of enthusiasm and ignorance, not of malice. I didn't mean to mislead you, okay? I just got excited and talked out of turn. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, if I could take it back, I would. Please, please forgive me.
As Monk would say, here's what happened: just as we were in the middle of preparing the materials for licensing, we got an offer from the Mark Taper Forum to present the Donmar production of the show. And so the Donmar called us, all the way from London, and asked us (the authors) to hold off on licensing the new version of the show so that the Taper production could be called the American premiere of the revision. In fact, they asked us to suspend all productions of Parade in the United States and Canada until the Donmar production. That seemed a little excessive, and MTI in particular wanted us to get the new version out in the world, but as a professional courtesy, we agreed to keep the original script on offer for the time being (with certain regions being declared off-limits so as not to compete with the production in Los Angeles) and not release the new one. So we've been in a holding pattern with the licensing until the Taper production is over; and even then, if this production tours, we've agreed to keep this version of the show off the market until such time as it makes sense to let other companies do it. I should have updated that blog entry months ago, but I've been paralyzed by embarrassment. I feel better now. Thank you, Wiley, for giving me the opportunity to bare my soul.
Meanwhile, I'm currently sitting in a tech rehearsal at the Taper, and this show is going to be magnificent, an ever richer experience, I think, than it was in London. I'm sorry I was a big fat liar, but at least I write good musicals.
To whet your appetite, check out this gallery of photos of the production in London, courtesy of our sensational lighting designer Neil Austin. Previews start in a week!
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