Doing Our Best to Make Things Jolly

Written: February 2, 2007.

In December of 2005, a branch of the International Gilbert & Sullivan Festival came to New York for a weekend of G&S celebration and fun. I was living in Providence at the time, and I came down for part of the festivities. A number of Brits had flown in for the event, which was organized by NYC’s Sam Silvers, who is a friend of mine through Savoynet.

People first gathered together on Thrusday, December 1. I wasn’t involved. Friday afternoon there was an outdoor sing at Lincoln Center, which I also missed. Friday evening, however, was a ‘Pot Luck’ sing-through of Pirates, in which I was conscripted to sing Samuel. At that event I met, among other people, Louis Dall’Ava, a NYGASP regular I later saw in Rose of Persia as the executioner.

Saturday December 3 was a concert. I attended a rehearsal in the afternoon, and the concert was in the evening. It was something of a G&S variety show; Neil Smith asked me to sing Bunthorne in his duet with Lady Jane, and Ko-Ko with an appropriately updated “Little List”. Here is what I came up with:

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I’ve got a little list — I’ve got a little list
Of society offenders who might well be underground,
And who never would be missed — who never would be missed!
There’s the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs —
All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs —
All children who are up in dates, and floor you with ‘em flat —
All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like that —
And all third persons who on spoiling tête-á-têtes insist —
They’d none of ‘em be missed — they’d none of ‘em be missed!

There’s the tenor who enthuses with his GARISH FORTE TONE!!!! [Very loudly, on a high note]
He never will desist! — I’ve got him on the list!
And the minor lead who points out every flaw except her own
She never would be missed! I’ve got her on the list!
There’s the overzealous chorister with rubber for a face [here, make an exaggeratedly enthusiastic facial expression]
And the patter man who’s sure that down and center is his place
And the lady who does musicals, and recently she’s felt
That the problem with light op’ra is, we sing instead of BELT!
And that singular anomaly, the diva solipsist–
I don’t think she’d be missed — I’m sure she’d not be missed!

And the one who treats “ensnarl” and “general” as if they rhyme
The amateur parodist — his rhyming and his scansion are bad!
The conductor and the pianist who can’t keep up the time [here, the magnificent Dr. Clive Woods drags terribly]–
[To him:] Stay with the soloist, or I’ll put you on the list!
And the internet savoyards of a compromising kind,
Such as — What d’ye call him — Thing’em-BLOG, and SAVOYNnnn…ever-mind,
And tut-tut-tut and What’s-his-name, and also You-know-who —
The task of filling up the blanks I’d rather leave to you.
But it really doesn’t matter whom you put upon the list,
For they’d none of ‘em be missed — they’d none of ‘em be missed!

It was fun.

That evening was also the first time I met Richard Holmes; I’d seen him in Buxton and worshiped him as a god, and our mutual friend Andi asked him to email me some advice when I was doing Bunthorne in Houston in a guest artist situation, so we’d been in contact, but that was our face-to-face meeting. He’s a delightful man. At the time, I was somewhat mortified by the schedule of the program, as my “Little List” was immediately after his “Time Was”. How can I follow him? But of course, the contrast in style was gigantic, and it was fine.

A gentleman named John W. Tomlinson sent me some photos he took from the concert. Here they are.

That’s me in the black suit front and center in the first one, singing the list song. The other two pictures are of me doing my first-and-last-ever Frederic; Rebecca Hains wanted a prop as she sang “Poor Wand’ring One”.