Looks Like We Made It

Friends and readers of SMGM, I have a difficult announcement to make. In the eight years of producing this blog, this is a day I did not see coming, and surely had hoped to avoid. Perhaps we should all have a seat and take a deep breath. Alright then, here it is:

I’m writing about Barry Manilow.

There, I said it. Shocking, I know. But I feel better already just having gotten that out.

It would be fair to ask how such a seemingly implausible thing could happen. Actually, there’s a very direct line.

We’ve recently had an extensive and ongoing series of house repair visits from a local contractor named Mark (by the way, if you want to wish something upon your enemies, wish them a difficult-to-diagnose, recurrent, multi-floor water leak issue). Mark is a burly, outdoorsy guy, with the personality and comportment of what you’d probably expect from a real, honest-to-goodness Mainer.

He also just attended a Barry Manilow concert here in Portland.

We’d heard his eager enthusiasm described in the weeks leading up to it, and then the effusive review Mark detailed following the show this week. On that day, I decided to augment his scraping, sanding and priming with a little post-show celebrating that will throw a shock into my end-of-year Spotify Wrapped results; circulating a best-of playlist of Manilow hits on my speakers throughout the house.

And, brace yourselves: every song sounded pretty darned great. Schmaltzy? Of course. But lush, melodic, beautifully arranged, orchestrated and sung, and delivered with, as I’ve since seen his style portrayed, “unapologetically emotional pop sensibilities.” Some artists – Neil Diamond and Rick Astley come to mind – so lack being cool they almost become defiantly cool as a result. Maybe, somehow, Barry Manilow has reached that point with me? What this possibly says about my sanity, or masculinity, I’m not sure. But I do have to admit it: I was loving the songs, and belting them out along with Mainer Mark in a scenario I seriously could not have envisioned on multiple levels.

With that having been said, and since most music listeners of a certain age would probably already be largely familiar with his catalog, rather than a long exploration of Manilow’s music I thought I’d offer a quick list of items which mostly caught me by surprise when I did a little subsequent reading up on him. Here’s seven.

His real name is Barry Pincus. Okay, maybe that one’s not that much of a surprise.
Manilow is 83, and recently underwent surgery for lung cancer – meaning, among other things, that Mark chose wisely to see him perform this summer on what is being billed as his final major arena tour.
Manilow’s early career was as a commercial jingle writer and singer, and among his notable contributions were “Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there”, “I am stuck on Band-Aid, ’cause Band-Aid’s stuck on me!” and “You deserve a break today” for McDonald’s.
He did not write the song ‘I Write the Songs’ (this is my favorite new Manilow factoid). As it happens, it was actually penned by Bruce Johnston of the Beach Boys.
‘Mandy,’ Manilow’s first Billboard #1 hit, was originally titled and recorded as ‘Brandy’ but then changed at the insistence of Clive Davis following the chart-topping release of ‘Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl).’
When Manilow emerged in the early ‘70’s, no less a crooner than Frank Sinatra was quoted as saying “He’s next.”
One overriding Manilow song characteristic, which I only really noticed after having just listened to his most famous tunes consecutively for the first time in my life, is a massive, dramatic key change employed towards the ends of hit after hit of his biggest songs. You’ll get a theatrical jolt in modulation from all of these: ‘Weekend in New England,’ ‘Even Now,’ ‘I Write the Songs,’ ‘Mandy,’ ‘Looks Like We Made It,’ ‘Ready to Take a Chance Again,’ ‘Can’t Smile Without You,’ ‘Bandstand Boogie,’ ‘When I Wanted You,’ and ‘Somewhere in the Night.’ And yes, I actually listened to all these songs (and more).

Look, though SMGM has, since its inception, featured artists for the most part in the rock & roll vein, upon the site’s introduction we also set forth a crucial goal of striving to touch on all kinds of popular music (well, except for hip hop and heavy metal, screw those). With the heretofore unimaginable inclusion of Barry Manilow, quite possibly the schlockiest pop artist in history, I guess it must be said: looks like we made it.