It’s never too early to find your audience.

Super props to the Producers of the upcoming musical, First Wives Club, for not even waiting for their musical to be finished before they started looking for their audience.

As discussed in this article, after a series of focus groups (Kudos Point #1), the Producers launched a social networking site (KP #2) called where divorced women could meet, interact and share their stories.  With several thousand members and a bunch of bloggers, they’ve created a world for their prime demographic that actually serves a purpose on its own (knowing our industry success rate, I’d bet that this site has a better chance of being profitable than the musical itself!).  If you look closely, you’ll notice that there isn’t even any branding for the musical at this stage.  They are taking the slow, safe, and smart approach (KP Hat Trick).

Musicals take a long time to be developed.  Smart producers use that time to do more than work on the 2nd scene in Act II.

Use that time.  It’s never too early to identify your target.  That doesn’t mean you have to attack them right away.  Just sit back, watch their moves, learn their habits, and when the time is right . . . bada-bing!  You’ll have a marriage made in marketing heaven with no possibility of divorce.

A Purple Elephant?

Seth Godin
would be proud.

It looks like Rodgers and Hart were great songsters and marketers, based on Edward Albee’s reminiscence of his first Broadway show, in this Sunday’s Times.

The first Broadway show I ever saw was in 1935 . . . and it was a musical starring a small elephant and Jimmy Durante.  It had a score by Rodgers and Hart, and it was called Jumbo.  It had in it such songs as “My Romance” and “The Most Beautiful Girl in the World.”  It probably hooked me on theater, but I’m sure the hook was the small elephant.

What would Edward Albee remember if he saw your show today?

It doesn’t have to be wildlife, but it has to be something.

(Do you think Durante would be peeved that the elephant got billing before him in Albee’s quote?)

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The ‘In The Heights’ Prequel

I saw my favorite flop this weekend.

I braved a borough and traveled to Brooklyn to see the BAM concert of Capeman, which featured Mr. Simon himself.

It was a wonderful celebration of a musical that didn’t work on Broadway, and still has its flaws.  But those flaws are found in some of the most beautiful and unique music we’ve heard on Broadway in the last decade (Encores, if you’re reading this, put down that script of Flora The Red Menace and call Paul).

As I listened to tunes like “Satin Summer Nights”, I forgave so many of the problems with the piece (most notably that the lyrics tend to be more narrative and do not further the characters arcs).

What made me forgive?  Three words.  Mel.  O.  Dy.

In the commercial musical theater medium, melody is so very important.  Common sense, right?  Then why do so many of the young and upcoming composers avoid it like an STD.  This not only goes for those fresh out of school, but also to those composers who have been anointed by the New York Times as being the future of musical theater (Has anyone realized that Michael John LaChiusa has never had a hit?  Doesn’t it seem odd for him to be teaching Graduate Musical Theatre Writing at NYU?)

In their search to be the next Sondheim, so many seem to forget what artists like Paul Simon, Elton John, Billy Joel,  Andrew Lloyd Webber, Marvin Hamlisch, John Kander and Richard Rodgers knew so very well.
A strong melody is like a drug to an audience.  It opens their mind.

And then, once they have smoked a little of what you’ve offered, you can say whatever you want to them.

And they’ll believe you.

The Definition of a Jukebox Musical

Wikipedia is wrong.

According to everyone’s favorite online encyclopedia, “A jukebox musical is a stage or film musical that uses previously released popular songs as its musical score.”

I disagree.  And I’d bet another $100 that Hal Prince would too.  Would you want to tell him that LoveMusik was a jukebox musical?

Here’s my definition:

“A jukebox musical is an original stage musical not based on a film that uses previously released popular songs that have no direct relation to the story as its musical score.”

Ok, so I’m no Webster’s.  Let me explain with examples.

Mamma Mia = Jukebox Musical (An original story about a girl searching for her father using Abba music)

All Shook Up = Jukebox Musical (Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night using Elvis tunes)

Jersey Boys = NOT a Jukebox Musical (Four Seasons music telling the Four Seasons story)

See what I mean?  Jersey Boys just doesn’t feel like a Jukebox musical.

Times They Are a Changin’?  Yes.  Movin’ Out?  Yes.  Good Vibrations?  Put another dime in the jukebox, baby.

Lennon?  No.

Lennon is dependent upon that music.  It couldn’t be done with The Carpenters catalog.  Mamma Mia (with a different title), on the other hand, could have been attempted with Lawrence Welk music.  Sure, it would have sucked, but that’s not the point.  Same thing with LoveMusik.  These are Bio Musicals, not jukebox musicals.

Xanadu, Saturday Night Fever . . . not Jukebox musicals.  They are musical adaptations of movies that already had the music integrated.

Here’s what’s crazy . . . both Wiki’s definition and my definition make shows like Crazy For You and Forever Plaid, jukebox musicals.

Maybe we should add something to the definition that states it only applies to shows after 2001 (the year when Mamma Mia hit Broadway).

Any other definitions out there?

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Different is nice, but it sure isn’t pretty . . .

Musical Theater and Straight Plays are different. I’m not just talking about the fact that one has chorus girls and sequins and higher price tickets. There is an inherent difference in the expectations of the audiences that creators of musicals need to recognize.

Need an example? At the end of Romeo & Juliet, what happens?  They both die.  Tragedy.
Sadness.  Love itself dies with them.

Now, let’s look at the musical adaptation of Romeo & Juliet, West Side Story, arguably the greatest musical ever written because of its seamless integration of music, book and dance.

What happens at the end of West Side Story?  Only ONE of them dies.  Ah ha!  Already
you’re starting to see the difference. But wait for it . . . wait for it . . . West Side isn’t over yet.

After Maria’s feisty “How many bullets are left” speech, the Jets start to carry off Tony’s dead body.  But, like Jesus carrying the cross, they falter.  Who comes running to their aid?  A Shark!  That’s right; the two warring gangs come together right before your eyes.  And a ray of sunshine is cast on what was a very dark tragedy.  Suddenly, there is hope that the future will be better.

Doesn’t sound like R&J, does it?

Musical theater audiences don’t mind tragedy.  In fact, they love a little drama.  But you can’t leave them with a tragic aftertaste.  No matter how dark your tale, it’s important to leave them with the idea that things could get better.  That the sun will come out . . . you know when.

Want another great example of this?  Look at the ending of the original London production of Miss Saigon.  Then look at what they did when they came to Broadway. It’s a subtle change that demonstrates exactly what I’m talking about.

Email me if you figure it out.