It would be nice to claim that the clinky xylophone-like accompaniment of [The Little Things You Do Together] is meant to reflect the brittle hollowness of Joanne and her fellow sophisticates, but in fact it’s the result of where I wrote it: on the Queen Mary during my one transatlantic boat trip. I was en route to deliver the first few songs to Hal Prince, who was shooting a movie in Bavaria, and since ocean liners, like the plays and musicals I had grown up with, were on the way out, I decided to travel in the old glamorous fashion. The purser arranged for me to have a small salon room, complete with piano, so that I could work while I travelled, assuaging my guilt over such luxurious time-wasting. But the ship kept listing to starboard and I unwittingly kept sliding toward it on the piano bench, resulting in a preponderance of treble plinks. Thus is insightful art produced.
Stephen Sondheim

Back when I was first learning about him, I was stunned to discover that the songs in some of his early shows like Company (1970) were originally viewed by some critics as ‘cold.’ To me his music seems the opposite of cold; his melodies have always seemed warm and inviting, while his harmonies have invariably stuck with me. I know nothing about music theory, but I do know that great composers use certain chords and rhythms and harmonies to evoke sadness or joy or melancholy. I suspect that if Mr. Sondheim were to write a book about his music, rather than his lyrics, he would explain just as clinically how he creates mood with harmony.

But reading Finishing the Hat made me realize that my assumption had been way too blithe; it was a way of letting myself off the hook. What I had long admired about Mr. Sondheim’s lyrics — what everyone admires, really — was their sheer gleaming intelligence. But what I had been missing — and what I could see, at last, on the page, as I listened to his songs — was their wealth of emotion, and how often they directly spoke to me.

Joe Nocera (on Sondheim)

This guy gets it.

(via tree-saw)

viceprincipalgupta:

“Do I Hear A Waltz?” — Elizabeth Allen — Do I Hear A Waltz? (1965)
Music by Richard Rodgers, Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim

“Leona has always believed that when she truly fell in love she would hear a waltz. Alternately enchanted by Di Rossi and mistrusting him, and thinking he has stood her up on a date, she sees him arriving at the pensione with the gift of a garnet necklace she has longed for.”

-Stephen Sondheim, Finishing The Hat

It might be worth noting that Arthur Laurents invented a character called Baby John in West Side Story, a character called Baby June in Gypsy and a character called Baby Joan in Anyone Can Whistle, prompting one to ask, ‘Whatever happened to Baby Jane?’
Geeky and great musical theater quote from Stephen Sondheim’s new collected lyrics book FINISHING THE HAT. (via veganchameleon)

The Tao of Steve

"Finishing the Hat": Stephen Sondheim's magnificent musical memoir

Review of the book Finishing the Hat, Stephen Sondheim's collection of lyrics — DC Theatre Scene

I’m meticulous about keeping every single piece of paper I’ve ever written a lyric or a piece of music on. Every now and then, I came across a lyric and thought, ‘This is good. This is better than I remembered it.’
On Broadway: Sondheim Talks Sondheim at Strathmore

Stephen Sondheim: Merrily he rolls along - kspr.com

Does he worry that our willingness to inhabit new fictional worlds has been compromised by the technological mania of contemporary life? He nodded wearily and admitted that he doesn’t use an iPod for fear “of walking right into the path of a Fifth Avenue bus.” Nor does he allow himself to hang out in Internet chat rooms, understanding that someone of his “addictive nature” might end up there all the time. If this makes him sound like a throwback, so be it. “I’m a cliché,” this inveterate cliché-crusher said at one point. “I’m a person getting old.” Sitting on the couch, he gives the impression of a timeless monument — scruffy, relaxed and settled into his final shape.

Another beautiful new interview.

Some people write sitting at a desk, some standing at one; I write lying down on a couch (except when I’m at the piano), for the obvious reason that it allows me to fall asleep whenever I encounter difficulties, which is often.
Stephen Sondheim, Finishing the Hat