Journale 16

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US - 1979
Romantic Music Barry Manilow writes of love, but at home he's all alone He doesn't look remotely like the inspiration for a million romantic fantasies. Not this skinny, hollow-cheeked singer with the golf ball Adam's apple who takes the stage with all the aplomb of a gawky schoolboy. But the trans-formation begins the second he raises his distinctive, half-throaty, half-nasal voice in song. Each Cupid's-dart lyric hits the audience with force of a missile. In ecstasy, they shriek, weep and even throw handkerchiefs and panties. Snap! The scrawny kid is suddenly Prince Charming. It could be Frank Sinatra, circa 1944, but the description fits the 1979 Barry Manilow just as snugly. No singer since Sinatra has done as much for the romantic ballad. And Manilow hasn't had it easy cutting a swath through the chart-dominating sounds of rock and disco. "There's nothing wrong with romantic music," Manilow argues. "The first time I made out, there was a Johnny Mathis record playing." Today, Manilow is providing a good deal more than back-seat mood music. Other romantic singers have managed a few hits, but no one can match Manilow's output. Since 1974, when he started "writing songs that make the young girls cry," Manilow has blanketed the charts with seven platinum albums and 15 consecutive gold singles, from "Mandy" to the current "Somewhere in the Night." It's an unparalleled track record. John Denver, Andy Gibb and Olivia Newton-John can be as heartwarming, as sly,as ingratiating; Billy Joel and Neil Diamond can push a tougher street-smart sensuality; Barbra Streisand can surpass his ability to uncover nuances of feeling. But the synthesis of all these elements into a unique style is Manilow's alone. Naturally, a few critics, especially the rockers, condemn him for opening the floodgates of musical marshmallow. They jeer at his looks ("He makes Marvin Hamlisch look like Record") and label him "Barry Vanilla, king of middle of the road." "Critics, bah!" moans Manilow, running his fingers through his blond-streaked hair as he paces his new, sparsely furnished home in Los Angeles. "What do they want me to do: take my pants off onstage? I like the romantic records I make and the people I make them for. I stand behind my stuff as strongly as Led Zeppelin stands behind its music. I never thought I would be put down as being the most commercial piece of crap to ever hit the airwaves," the 32-year-old singer says incredulously. "Six years ago, I didn't even listen to that music." So how did it happen? "If I had to pick one specific incident, I'd say it was when I saw a revival of the musical "Carousel" and got into people who could move me emotionally." Classically trained at Julliard, Manilow claims he took music so seriously that "I didn't realize somebody simply could stand onstage singing and make me cry. 'You'll Never Walk Alone,' the corniest song in the world, moved me. I started gravitating toward music that could do that." At first, music (in the form of five years of accordion lessons) was just a hobby for young Manilow, an only child whose truck driver father deserted the family when Barry was 2. Gradually, it became an oasis for a shy kid growing up in the rough Williamsburg section of Brooklyn.
The romance is on paper when lyricist Adrienne Anderson helps Manilow write songs.
There's no romance either between Manilow and longtime lady Linda Allen, but the friendship remains.
Manilow's only roommate is his beagle, Bagel. His favorite music: ballads of heartbreak, of course.
Manilow has finally found the time to learn how to drive; finding the time for a love life is not so easy.
But studying music at Julliard couldn't pay the bills. His marriage, at 22, to a childhood sweetheart, meant he had to get a job. The one he took was in the CBS mailroom. Stifling his musical instincts almost drove Manilow crazy, so much so that within the year he quit his job and his marriage. But he had no regrets: "When you get the call, there's nothing you can do about it." Few people know that Manilow started out not as a singer but as an arranger and pianist. In 1972, when the pickings were slimmest, he played piano at New York's Continental Baths to a gay audience. It was here that he met singer Bette Midler. He guided her career in between doing commercials for such firms as McDonald's and Dr Pepper until he decided, two years later, to sing for his own supper. Today, as his records sweep awards and sales, he's planning a third ABC TV special for spring and a movie debut in the fall, perhaps a remake of Roman Holiday. Also, he is currently in the studio producing a romantic comeback LP for Dionne Warwick. Amazingly, the man who brought back romance to pop music has no time for love in his own life. Manilow and his longtime lady, decorator Linda Allen, 32, are such workaholics that they no longer find it practical to live together, although they remain close friends. Right now, romance for Manilow is a catch-can affair, what with his schedule of record, TV, movie and concert dates. Manilow spends whatever spare time he has with old friends and co-workers. Most nights, he comes home, stretches out on the rug-head on his Mr. Spock pillow, arm around Bagel, his pet beagle - and listens to his favorite music: romantic ballads, of course, especially those dealing with heartbreak. "It's better to write songs like that," Manilow explains soberly. "It affects people more than songs about established relationships."  That statement is perhaps the most telling reason for Manilow's staggering success. The emotional wallop of his ballads has awakened audiences to the romance that's been missing in their lives. In an age of noncommitment and sexual liberation, Manilow knows the vast majority out there often feels as lonely and disheartened as he does. In concert, he adresses them directly: "If you didn't come with someone you want to cuddle up with," he warns, "my songs are going to be agony." In response, the audience cheers. Manilow, alone with his fears and uncertainties, is their champion. The pain he sings about is their pain. Standing in the living room of his new home, Manilow is a perfect example of the romantic conflict he expresses in song. "I haven't been in love for a long while," he confides sadly. "Who has the time? I read somewhere it's either heart or art." For the time being at least, he's made his choice. "The hardest part," he adds, gazing around the empty room, "is coming home to nobody." by Chip Orton
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TV Showpeople
Spotlights Hit the Background Man "Tonight, I am going to bring you a musical evening." That's the way Barry Manilow modestly introduces his act - an act which includes his number-one hit song, "Mandy," songs he's written and arranged for Bette Midler, and a medley of jingles and commercials, some of which he's written and some of which he's sung for radio and television. Yes, commercials. Unlike the humiliated painter who has to support his fine art by painting billboards, Barry Manilow is not only proud of his commercial career but hopes to continue it. And he makes it an important part of his act. Crowds cheer when his piano lights up and the voice millions have heard suddenly has a body attached to it, singing: "You deserve a break today... at McDonald's!" There's a slight touch of the outrageous in the presentation, but it's all done with fun and with taste. "I do it for two reasons. In my experience, you need something in your act that is familiar, something that the audience can relate to. One hit song does not make a whole act. The second reason is that the music I've been involved with in commercials is good; it's not junk. The days of garbage commercials are gone. I am not embarrassed by them, or by having the reputation of singing a chicken commercial. Some of these hot-shot reviewers put me down for doing commercials, but I know I could fool them... I could present them with a song called 'I Love You, Too,' and use the melody from the song I wrote for State Farm Insurance, and they'd think it was a very nice song." All his life, Barry has had musical ambitions - starting out with the accordian. "I got up to 'Lady of Spain' and they told me, 'Now you shake the accordian.' I said, 'Over my dead body!' and my step-father bought me a piano. It was much more manageable and easier to play. I got right into the popular area istead of the classical stuff, although I eventually had a lot of classical training. I never really had eyes to be a performer; I was going to be Nelson Riddle or Henry Mancini when I grew up. I wanted to play and arrange for singers. I wanted to make the piano sound like a whole orchestra." That is precisely what he did. He became so good at arranging music and accompanying singers that his reputation rapidly grew around New York, and he was kept busy accompanying singers in clubs and for their auditions. "One singer made a tape of himself to show to commercial agencies, and included a song I had written. One of the agents he took it to was Kevin Gavin, who told him he had a good voice, but wanted to know who wrote that song. 'Kevin then called me and asked if I wanted to try writing a commercial for him, and I agreed."   "I did not know at the time that when you write a commercial, you're up against some heavy competition. There could be fifty writers going after the same spot. Kevin gave me the lyric, I wrote my little spot, and they picked mine! Before long, it became a very profitable side-line for me; it was a better way of making money than playing in a bar at night, and I was able to work on my other music as well." "I was meeting some nice people and learning from working in the studios. Before long, I realized that I was making even more money singing commercials than I was getting for writing them, what with residuals and all, and I started getting jobs singing commercials I hadn't written." Speaking of singers, I discovered that there are about seven or eight singers who are well-known for their talent and ability to do commercials, and who are usually so booked that they can pick and choose the things they want to do. I also found out that the minute they are told that Barry will have some-thing to do with a commercial, they all want to work on it with him. I asked him about it.
"I heard that once, and I can't believe it! It's really amazing that these singers I had heard about for so long have all become my friends. They have been so supportive. When this new thing started to break, this Barry Manilow as a performing artist, they were all in my corner. They would come and cheer me on when I did Bette's thing." It was through "Bette's thing" that the name Barry Manilow first became publicly known. There are still many people who claim that if it weren't for Barry, there would have been no Bette Midler. "Not true. I'm as grateful to her as she is to me. It was teamwork, it was definitely teamwork. If you ask me what I did for Bette, I still don't know. It was like Martin and Lewis. She would come up with this, I would come up with that, and we would work on it together. I orchestrated the stuff and made it sound like what I thought it sounded like in her head. I was assuming that if she knew how to write for a violin, for example, that's the way she would write it. Most of the time I was right, but as far as directing her talent and guiding her, I don't know how much I gave to her." Besides an extensive national concert tour, Barry has appeared on a number of national and local television shows, including Midnight Special, The Smothers Brothers Show and The Dick Cavett Show. "Cavett's people called me up and asked me if I would come on to play for a singer. I did not know who they were talking about, and I told them no because I was busy and was not playing for anybody anymore anyway. When they said it was Bette Davis, I felt, well, how could you turn down the Statue of Liberty? I figured they would put me in the background somewhere, but they put the piano smack in the middle of the stage, and we rehearsed all afternoon." "On the show, I gave her an obvious introduction to 'Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte'; she hit the wrong note and then sort of squigged down to the right key. When we were sitting down, Cavett asked me if Bette Davis had just walked in as a newcomer, would I think she was a singer or an actress. What was I going to say? Now, Bette Davis is a great actress and a lovely woman, but... I mean, you know, there are some things you can do and... well, I would not try to act Queen Elizabeth! Actually, she's got an ear and she can sing. She's just not used to doing it. She loved it and it was worth the price of admission just to see how much she enjoyed doing it. She was just having such a good time." Barry Manilow, too, is having a good time. Performing in the fore-ground was never an ambition of his, but, somehow, it happened. "If I had wanted to do that I would have started a long time ago. I'm ecstatic about it, but I'm more surprised than anybody." "I still consider it a job. Because of those many years of being in the back-ground, and having to be very solid, having to be the brick and be the guy that put it together, I find it easier to do what I have to do instead of being a freaked-out artist throwing tantrums. The discipline I've had all these years keeps me in tow. I know how to deal with musicans, and agents, and the public. It has been an emotional upheaval, and I do get nervous as hell before performances, but not as much as if I were a guitar player that they found on a street corner and made into a star. I've paid my dues; I've been schlepping around for a long time. This performing is wonderful. It is a gift, a big gift, and if it all ends tomorrow, I have really had a terrific time." Barry's music has been described as everything from "brilliant" to "dynamite... and honest." One reviewer said that Barry has "... a great act, mercifully bereft of gimmicks and freakie gags." While he enjoys being center stage, Barry continues all of the background work that has led to his popularity. Not only does he continue his writing and singing for commercials, but he writes, arranges and produces his records and his act. With his public performances, Barry Manilow has added yet another facet to his already successful career. by Chip Orton
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TEEN 1980
The Flip Side of Barry Manilow When he steps on stage, resplendent in glittery costumes, surrounded by bright lights and fanfare, Barry Manilow is every bit the superstar. He's never been hailed for exceptional good looks or stylish grace, yet the minute he sits at the piano and begins to sing, he's in total command. He charms audiences with his sincere, unpretentious of true entertainment. This is what his fans adore. Offstage, though, Barry Manilow is quite a different person, and he often wonders if his fans are aware of that. "Most of my fans," he assumes, "would be disappoined if they realized I don't walk around in flashy clothes all the time and don't sing all day long, that I sit around in blue jeans, watch television, don't shave and don't have witty things to say. From the letters I receive, you'd think I was really hot stuff, Well, I'm not hot stuff. I'm just a regular person." Barry may very well be a "regular person," but he hardly sits around in front of the TV all day. He works amazingly hard at his career, and his talents go far beyond his voice alone. In fact, he had no intentions of being a singer at first. He began playing the accordian when he was about seven and switched to piano in his early teens. Everyone who heard him realized he had a special talent - he could take nearly any song and change it, making it unique. Singers loved to have him accompany them because he could make any song sound like it was custom-written. His music also helped him survive his teen years. In the rough neighborhoods of New York, the kids who commanded respect were either very tough, very athletic or very good-looking. Barry was none of these. "I was really ugly the ugliest kid in school," he recalls. "I have pictures that would make your hair curl. I was a street kid, but not a street punk. I lived in the streets; my hangouts were alleys and deserted parking lots filled with inner tubes. The games I played were in the gutters. I wasn't very good at sports and I wasn't Mr. Popularity at school, but I had some fabulous friends." Barry may not have been the most popular kid in class, but his classmates did recognize that he was talented - they were in awe of his musical abilities and respected him for this expertise. Barry was more or less brought up by his mother and grandparents, and his best friend was the lady he eventually married at age 21. They were all supportive and encouraging of his pursuit of music. "When you grow up in the slums, people aren't disappointed because you don't have plans to become a doctor or lawyer," he says. "They're happy if you decide to be anything, because anything is better than poverty." When Barry decided to go to college and make a serious study of music, everyone encouraged his efforts.
Up until then, he'd been toying with songwriting and arranging, but didn't know the technical aspects of what he was doing. He could improvise changes in a song, but didn't know how to write those changes down so other people could play them too. When Barry completed his schooling, he got jobs working as a musical director and conductor. People begged him to work as their accompanist. He happily obliged, since it was one of his favorite things to do and he knew he was good at it. "I'm not a terribly accomplished piano player," explains Barry. "There are lots of people around who can play the piano better than I. What I can do better than them is make the piano sound like an entire orchestra when I play for a singer. I have a special talent for arranging a song, and that's what I love to do." In order to develop his talents he apprenticed himself to any band or singer who would have him and performed at any club where he could get a booking. Those were rough times, but Barry recalls them fondly. He eventually began to work as a jack-of-all-trades in the commercial jingle business. He sang, wrote and arranged jingles and enjoyed all the various aspects of song production. He's never been content just to write or sing. He's a man who likes to be totally involved in the creation of a sound. He met up with Bette Midler about this time and worked with her to develop her unique style. When he met Ron Dante, the two became excited at the prospect of putting an album together. They worked together to choose the songs, write the arrangements and record them. That's when Barry's career took an exciting turn. While his colleagues respected his considerable abilities in writing and arranging, the fans loved him as a singer. At that point, he could have hired people to do all the background work and showed up only to sing the songs, but Barry didn't want that. Besides, who else could write and arrange songs designed so perfectly for his style or accompany him so well? To this day, Barry does as much of the creative work on his songs as time allows. Recently, he also set his own singing aside briefly to lend a hand as producer for Dionne Warwick. He assessed her capabilities and put together a collection of tunes that made her talents shine. He worked as sole producer of the album, but continues to team with Ron Dante when doing his own albums. "I do that," he explains, "because I can be very objective when working for someone else, but not for myself. Dealing with my own songs, it's hard to tell what's good and what isn't. I need to have someone there who can tell me when a song just isn't working. I'm also terrible at recognizing a hit. I know what I like, but I can never tell which songs are going to climb the charts. I'll invariably have the highest expectations for the songs that don't become hits!" Although the lyrics for many of Barry's songs are written by others, they remain very personal to him. The lyricists he works with are close friends and he explains that "they know how to write for me because we're so close. They always seem to know what I'm going through. Many of the lyrics reflect experiences that we've shared. We know what's going on in each other's lives and are able to reflect these things in songs." Since he made his first album, a lot has happened to Barry in terms of lifestyle changes, and he's had to make major adjustments. He never planned on becoming a superstar, and it all happened rather suddenly. In the beginning, Barry enjoyed quiet solitude. He was happy in a small, comfortable New York apartment where he was able to go about his daily chores in peace - that is, until "Who's Who" unkindly printed his home address. Recalls Barry, "First the letters started coming - I had no idea how. Then they started piling up in front of the door. Until then, I had had a wonderfully private life. Suddenly this Who's Who thing came out and fans started to camp outside my door. It was hellish, so I had to move."  Not yet willing to leave New York, he moved into a large, tightly guarded co-op apartment under an assumed name. Finally he was able to get some privacy at home, but the minute he stepped out on the street, his anonymity was gone. Fans were everywhere. No sooner had he become accustomed to his new situation in New York than it became apparent he'd have to move to Los Angeles. He spent so much time working there, it seemed silly not to move, but that meant adjusting to a new city. With his devoted dog Bagel in tow, he settled into a new home in an opulent area of L.A. being closer to the center of his work made things easier, but there were problems too - the main one being learning how do drive. It took some doing, but Barry's now beginning to negotiate the L.A. freeway maze like an old pro.
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Looks Like Barry Manilow's Made It, To Say The Least, But Why Isn't He Happier?
He writes the songs the whole world sings, but Barry Manilow still feels sort of miserable. He's the king of jingles (Band-Aids, Chevrolet) and the producer-arranger maestro who helped establish Bette Midler. Since he went solo, he has eight hit singles in two years, incluging Grammy nominees 'Mandy' and 'I Write the Songs' and his current 'Looks Like We Made It'. All five of his LPs have gone at least gold. "But to himself, Barry's still zero," says a former boyfriend. "He can't believe how enormous a star he is, and he's afraid it's all going to fall apart." "I'm from nowhere, Brooklyn, up from nothing. I've worked my ass off to get here," is Barry's response, "and I'm gonna work my ass off to stay here. I can't sleep at night for the music going round in my head." That, of course, has gotten in the way of relationships with either sex, including the marriage with his high-school honey that dissolved after a year at age 22. Now in his mid-30s (he claims to be younger), Manilow's success has made him a virtual recluse, terrified that fans will discover his address or phone number (which is more guarded even than Streisand's). Surrounding himself with an impenetrable buffer of go-betweens (not to mention a bulky blond chauffeur-bodyguard), Manilow never ventures out to movies and rarely to restaurants. "Anybody who really needs to can get to me," he maintains. "I'm a very private person. I don't want to share my life with anybody." But he does share his home, lately renting what he calls "a ridiculous Beverly Hills palazzo" while at work on a new album and a 1978 TV special on the Coast. Present housemates include his general manager, manager, longtime friend Linda Allen, and his beloved pet beagle, "Bagel." But when his current projects are finished in the fall, Barry will skedaddle back to New York and the new West Side co-op whose roster so far includes only Linda and Bagel. "Everybody in the music business lives out here in L.A.," he says, "But I'm not coming. I choose to live in New York. I'm a city kid with soot in my blood."
An only child, Manilow was born in the tough Williamsburg section of Brooklyn and raised by his mother after his truck driver dad deserted the family when Barry was 2. At 7 he was given an accordion. Then at 13, his bar mitzvah year, he received a piano and a stepfather, Willie Murphy. Though also a truck driver, he helped the boy cross the bridge to Manhattan, introducing him to Broadway musicals and jazzman like Gerry Mulligan. Barry put himself through a year of college and classical training at Juilliard working in the CBS mailroom, before making his own move in music on the local CBS station. Linda, his current lady, then in programming, got him to arrange a new theme for The Late Show, to replace Leroy Anderson's Syncopated Clock. About then his marriage failed. "I didn't have a good time. I had to come home to the same person all the time and I didn't want to, even though I might have loved her," Barry reflects. "I don't see any reason to get married," he adds. "My mother and stepfather got divorcedand then started to live really happily. They actually date, and they live together when they feel like it. That seems to me the way to do it." "Schlepping up the ladder of success," as he phrases it, Manilow arranged and conducted for some of Ed Sullivan's last specials and personally played gigs in coffeehouses and Holiday Inns. In 1972 he took over as house planist at the Continental Baths in Manhattan (the model for Broadway's and Hollywood's The Ritz). A few weeks later Bette Midler bounced in to make her name among the boys in the bath towels. Before he went on his own in 1974, Manilow had co-produced her Grammy-winning debut album, 'The Divine Miss M', and hit single, 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy'. He had also written, sung or arranged a mother lode of commercials (McDonald's, State Farm insurance, Stridex, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi) that, billed as A very Strange Medley, are a droll highlight of his latest live album and concert. On one of these commercial recording dates he met a then-unknow Melissa Manchester, whom he now counts as his only real pal in the business. Sadly he recounts that when he won a special Tony in June for his two-week stand on Broadway. "the only congratulatory telegram I got, from friends, family or anyone, was from Bette Midler." One acquaintance believes that Manilow "has never had a successful human relationship yet. People who start as nothing - and don't forget, he was ugly as well as poor - often stay nothing to themselves," the man continues. "They feel they have nothing to offer anyone else." Though about 80 percent of Manilow's material is self-written, most of his monster hits have been composed by others. His own assessment of his artistry is sound. In live performance, he finds the notes and his voice is strong. His stage movements tend to be awkward, but that often wins audience empathy. As a composer, he believes, "The words I sing best to a melody are words about love. Listening only to my singles, you'd think that's all I sang about. On albums I do take it a step or two further," he suggests. "I'm possibly breaking through into slightly new ground with more intelligent lyrics than 'Baby oh baby' and more sophisticated rhythms and arrangements that go beyond a guitar and drum."
"Arranging is my strongest suit. It's what separates me from everyone else," Manilow says justifiably. "I grew up wanting to be Nelson Riddle. I'm only a fair singer, I write nice songs, but I'm a great arranger. If it all fell apart tomorrow, I'd be able to make a living, as an arranger." Not that Manilow expects it to fall apart tomorrow, although it could happen, he figures, to a Peter Frampton. "He's got his audience," says Barry. "Yet they want me on the cover of 16 Magazine while my mother's friends are still having a good time with my music." Retirement? "When I'm 50-something," he laughs, "I might lie on a raft on the Riviera. The people who last 20 or 30 years in this business don't do it by accident." The only previous solo artists to have five albums on the charts simultaneously were Johnny Mathis and Frank Sinatra. "Maybe there was a little luck in the beginning," says Manilow. "But you plan for it and you work your ass off to make sure you don't fall back down." by Robert Windeler
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Bravo - 1979
Barry, der Weltstar aus der Poststelle Seine neueste TV-Show soll noch in diesem Jahr gesendet werden Beim deutschen Publikum ist er vor allem durch seine TV-Shows zum Superstar geworden: Barry Manilow (33), geboren in Brooklyn (New York). Eigentlich hatte er nie damit gerechnet, mal ein gefeierter Showstar zu werden. "Mit der Nase und meinem Kaninchengebiß", grinst er augenzwinkernd. Aber die Nase hat sich als der richtige Riecher erwiesen. In Amerika hat er mit seinen sanften Songs Showgrößen wie Neil Diamond den Rang abgelaufen. Und auch bei uns steigen seit seinen Auftritten im letzten Jahr und seiner Fernseh-Show im vergangenen Juni seine Aktien unaufhaltsam. Angefangen hat alles in der New Yorker Poststelle einer Plattenfirma (CBS). Barry verdiente sich dort das Geld für sein Musikstudium und träumte davon, einmal ein berühmter Komponist zu werden. Weil ihn der Bürojob auf die Dauer langweilte, begann er in Kneipen Klavier zu spielen. Ein Plattenboß, der auf sein Talent aufmerksam geworden war, gab ihm eine Chance als Produzent für Broadway-Musicals. Nebenbei schrieb Barry die Musik für Werbespots von McDonald und Pepsi-Cola. 1974 begann er seine eigenen Platten zu produzieren. Mit Hits wie "Mandy" und "Could it be magic" wurde er Stammgast in den Charts. Seine Alben wurden in den Staaten Millionen-Seller. Es wird Zeit, daß er sich ein wenig mehr um Europa kümmert. Auf jeden Fall sind für dieses Jahr noch eine Fernsehshow und ein neues Album von ihm angesagt.
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GLOBE JULY 2005
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