The blancos and the nigger gangs, well, they'd kill you
if they could.
They're not quite the first Simon lyrics to be heard on-stage. That distinction belongs to Leonard Bernstein's hippie "theater piece," Mass, which contains one quatrain by Simon:
Half of the people are stonedAnd the other half are waiting for the next electionHalf the people are drownedAnd the other half are swimming in the wrong direction.
"He just liked the lyrics," says Simon. "I said he could have them in return for opening-night tickets--which he never sent me." They were originally written for a Zeffirelli film that Bernstein and Simon were working on. Lenny fancied himself as pretty hip, but his young collaborator wasn't impressed by the older man's attempts at rock. "He played a melody, and it was an awkward moment. He said: 'If we're going to collaborate, we have to be completely honest. So what do you think?' I said: 'Well, that's not very good. That's not rock 'n' roll.' He was taken aback." The composer drew himself up and said huffily: "This is Leonard Bernstein music."
If you're a bona fide rock star, it's hard to take seriously the theater's nervous tiptoeing into the territory. "I never thought Hair was really rock 'n' roll," says Simon, "but now, supposedly"--he grins--"it's a classic!" Hair, Godspell, the title song of Phantom, the current sensation Rent (the "rock opera" that so distracted killer Brit nanny Louise Woodward from her household duties), all are unconvincing hybrids--neither good rock nor good show tunes. The conventional wisdom, argued by Sondheim among others, is that rock is difficult to use dramatically. "Well, I don't think it's difficult," retorts Simon. "But the people who were trying to write it weren't coming from rock 'n' roll--they were doing an impression of rock 'n' roll. And, since everyone knows what rock 'n' roll sounds like, it wasn't fooling very many people."
In fairness, the theater found it hard to attract genuine rockers. At the end of his life, Alan Jay Lerner, author of My Fair Lady, used to bemoan that Simon and his generation had never written for Broadway. But rock lyricists earn their reputations with the kind of elliptical poetic impenetrability that looks great reprinted on a 1960 gatefold LP sleeve. However, when you're sitting in a theater, you get one chance to grab those words as they're flying across the footlights at you. It's a surprise, then, to find that The Capeman's lyrics are more direct, less allusive--that, after years of writing more and more about himself, Simon has been able to write in the voice of characters far less articulate. I don't know whether he's "arrogant" or a "control freak" in the studio or the rehearsal room, but where it counts--in the music and lyrics--you can hear a man who is, at 57, still trying to learn.
Just under a decade ago, I did a TV special with Simon that was filmed partly at his office in the Brill Building. The director spent the morning setting up a perfect shot for the interview, looking down Broadway, the picture framed by the Cats marquee at the Winter Garden and the 42nd Street billboard in Times Square. Simon peeked through the camera and said: "That's just a generic shot of Broadway. That's nothing to do with who I am." So everything was dismantled and the crew set up at the opposite corner of the room, away from the window. It was a telling image: Simon was literally turning his back on Broadway.
Not anymore. Clearly, it's still not an entirely comfortable fit. But, whatever happens to The Capeman, I hope he won't give up on the theater. There's more musical invention in a song like
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