ON THE RECORD: A New Recording of Bernstein's Mass, Plus "Think Pink!, a Kay Thompson Collection
By Steven Suskin
October 11, 2009
This week's column discusses conductor Marin Alsop's new recording of Leonard Bernstein's Mass, and an extra-musical box bursting with the sound of Kay Thompson.
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MASS [Naxos 8.559622-23]
It's always a pleasure to find a new CD that I can wholeheartedly endorse, and here we have one that is indispensable: Marin Alsop's recording of Leonard Bernstein's Mass. Bernstein's so-called "Theatre Piece for Singers, Players and Dancers" purposely crossed genres, as a result of which it has always resided somewhere outside the musical theatre classification. And as a result of which, many fans of musical theatre and fans of Bernstein as well have more or less overlooked it. Imagine, another score to keep on the shelf alongside West Side Story and Candide and many Bernstein fans don't know it? That has been the fate of Mass, alas; Bernstein's excellent 1971 recording of the score has always been around, more or less, but usually grouped with his symphonic work and relatively undiscovered by Broadwayites. Here we have a sparkling new two-disc recording, available from the relatively low-priced Naxos label. No excuses, please; if you consider yourself a fan of Bernstein and don't know Mass, now is the time to discover it. And if you know and enjoy your Mass, you'll no doubt be thrilled by this new recording.
Mass, of course, is the piece that was commissioned by Jacqueline Onassis in 1966 for the opening of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, DC. The grand premiere at the Opera House on Sept. 8, 1971, just across the street from the Watergate, arrived under storm clouds; Bernstein's pop-rock, anti-war version of a Catholic mass contained elements seemingly designed to offend anyone over 30 who wasn't exceedingly liberal. Certainly, the President who inherited it Mr. Nixon must have seen it as an enormous stick poked in his eye (although he apparently stayed away from the 12-performance engagement). "O you people of power, your hour is now, you may plan to rule forever, but you never do somehow"; this might have been seen as a direct joust in those pre-Watergate days. Mass, which was directed by Gordon Davidson and choreographed by Alvin Ailey, then moved on to a three-week stint at the Metropolitan Opera House. Too big for a Broadway theatre, with almost 250 performers and musicians, but not exactly welcome in higher-brow environs. That turned out to be the fate of the piece.
Marin Alsop, music director of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, knows Bernstein well; a protιgι of the master, she has had considerable success with his work. As a major keeper of the flame, she undertook a grand concert version of Mass last October (her fifth time conducting the piece). This traveled to Carnegie Hall as part of last fall's Bernstein Festival; the performance on Oct. 24 was decidedly a highlight of my entire theatregoing season.
Ms. Alsop does a phenomenal job; she has clearly studied Bernstein's recording, and effortlessly inhabits the score. But she enhances the piece; certain tempos are altered in a manner that heightens the emotion and adds an element of danger. The impression, beginning midway through, is of a watch-spring being wound tighter and tighter. Alsop retains control, but then the score seems to sneak away from her until finally the spring is twisted too tight. It breaks and unravels with a clang. This is, of course, precisely what happens in the piece; the Celebrant carefully and valiantly holds on as his faith is bombarded on all sides. Finally, though, "things get broken." The Celebrant's breakdown is mirrored, as it were, from the podium, resulting in a Mass that absolutely soars and startles.
Bernstein, who conducted Mass for the original recording [CBS M2K 44593] but not in the theatre, seems to be running on adrenaline. He couldn't have been especially familiar with the score when he took everybody next door to the Kennedy Center Concert Hall for the recording sessions, struggling as he was to finish the writing. (Certain portions of the text have always sounded like dummy lyrics which never got replaced. Stephen Schwartz, who as a 23-year-old newcomer collaborated with Bernstein on the lyrics, appears to have recently fixed up some of these spots at Alsop's behest.) It is foolish to opine as to how Bernstein would respond to what Alsop has wrought, but I'm inclined to think that he would heartily and vehemently approve, with hugs all around.
What raises this Mass above all others is the presence of Jubilant Sykes as The Celebrant. Alan Titus, who originated the role back in 1971, was very good indeed; but Sykes not only sings this massive part, he acts it. Listening to this recording, you get a sense of the Celebrant as a character; Mass is his journey from religious exaltation to a dark and crushing despair. We can hear the Celebrant of Mr. Sykes thinking as he goes along and fighting the thoughts, which distract him from the religious service. He is wound tighter and tighter, like the aforementioned watch-spring, as he progresses from "The Lord's Prayer" to "I Go On" to the "Sanctus"; and his ultimate breakdown, in "Things Get Broken," is simply devastating. Sykes, with the support and assent of Alsop, brings humanity to Bernstein's Mass; and that is the extra magic of this recording.
Alsop leads the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, the Morgan State University Choir, and the Peabody Children's Chorus. Nobody bothers to credit orchestrators Jonathan Tunick and Hershy Kay, so I'll do that here. Bernstein knew what he wanted in this piece, certainly, but he didn't have the time or presumably the inclination to do it himself. (I understand that the composer sheepishly apologized when their names were omitted from the 1971 recording.) And while the 20-person Street Chorus is listed in alphabetical order, none of the soloists are delineated. Thus let me point out that "I Don't Know" is sung by Timothy Shew and Dan Micciche; "Thank You" ("There once were days so bright") is sung by Amy Justman; "Non Credo" ("And was made man") is sung by Kevin Vortmann; Morgan James does "Hurry"; and Max Perlman leads "I Believe in God." Most special of all is Theresa McCarthy, the soloist for "World Without End." (Street Chorus members without major solos include Sarah Uriate Berry.)
But it is Ms. Alsop, and Mr. Sykes, who take this worthy "theatre piece for singers, players and dancers" and give us an even finer recording than Mr. Bernstein's original. Those of you who have been missing out on this score for years be prepared for the reward of this thrilling Mass.
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Kay Thompson (1909-1998) is best remembered, when remembered at all, as the creator and author of "Eloise," who was kind of a mid-century cosmopolitan version of Penrod. (If you don't remember Penrod, so be it.) Thompson is also recalled by fans of movie musicals for her appearance as Maggie Prescott in the 1957 film "Funny Face." Fred Astaire and Audrey Hepburn were the nominal stars, and they certainly lit up the screen; but Thompson gave an uproarious and unforgettable performance as a fashion editor who counseled her minions to "Think Pink." It is hard to accept the fact that this is her only full-scale acting performance; Thompson in this film is an out-sized personality along the lines of Eve Arden and Carol Channing, and one supposes she simply wasn't interested in an acting career. Thompson's main concentration, though, was as one of the few woman of talent and power in the Hollywood music game. She was vocal arranger-in-charge at M-G-M during that studio's years of dominance in the movie musical field. If you recall that fabled M-G-M sound, what is ringing in your ears is no doubt Kay's handiwork.
If Thompson is more or less vanished from the scene, that perennial six-year-old Eloise remains in circulation (although the heirs have been making some questionable steps of late). What's more, Thompson's goddaughter last year reached into the archives and dusted off some of Kay's vocal charts, bringing them to Broadway in Liza's at the Palace! (Ms. Minnelli was not only Thompson's goddaughter; she purportedly served as model for Eloise, the tyke who runs along the upper floors of the Plaza Hotel banging sticks along the halls.) The results contained in the Minnelli revue could only approximate the real thing. Now, Thompson's biographer Sam Irvin with the aid of that invaluable musicologist Michael Feinstein has compiled "Think Pink! A Kay Thompson Party."
This three-CD set, from the British label Sepia, is a Kay Thompson party indeed. The first disc is a compilation of studio recordings; the second, rarities and live performances; and the third contains demos, radio transcriptions, and several helpings of Eloise. Rather than give you a blow-by-blow account of the 75 tracks, let's just say that: (A) the 40s (and 50s) sound wafts over you, the ear enveloped by Thompson's lush vocals; (B) a good amount of the songs were written by Thompson herself, with the top items being "I Love a Violin," "Eloise," and "Love on a Greyhound Bus"; and (C) a long list of interesting people appear with Thompson on various tracks, including Judy Garland, Fred Astaire, Audrey Hepburn, Tony Martin, Danny Kaye, Ann Miller, Bing Crosby, Peter Lorre, Andy Williams, Louis Jourdan, Monty Woolley, and Helen Hayes. Highlights are too many to mention, but I'm especially glad to find a dynamite 1944 recording of Johnny Green's "The Steam Is on the Beam." Think Pink, why don't you?
(Steven Suskin is author of "The Sound of Broadway Music: A Book of Orchestrators and Orchestrations" as well as "Second Act Trouble," "Show Tunes," and the "Opening Night on Broadway" books. He can be reached at Ssuskin@aol.com)