Perhaps the most concise way to summarize Michael Feinstein's work over nearly 30 years as a prominent keeper of the flame for the Great American Songbook is to say that the Great American song title that least applies to him might be Duke Ellington and Bob Russell's "Don't Get Around Much Anymore."
Feinstein, 57, came to L.A. from his native Ohio in the 1970s to sing and play in piano bars, immersed himself in the art and lore of his musical calling as an assistant to Ira Gershwin, and has gone on to champion his favored song form in all venues at hand including co-proprietorship of Feinstein's concert nightclub and a nonprofit foundation based outside Indianapolis. He's also branched into composing for musicals, and he hopes his first attempt, "The Gold Room," based on the life of heiress Barbara Hutton, will land a production in England, where his collaborator, lyricist-librettist Warner Brown, is based. Last summer, Feinstein leaped into conducting an orchestra for the first time, as principal conductor of the Pasadena Pops. His first season drew big crowds, and the second begins with a concert titled "Feinstein's Favorites" on June 7 at the
What have you been doing to sharpen your conducting skills?
It's just been an immersion process, where every day I do some work, if it's studying a score or flailing my arms while standing in front of a mirror, whatever it takes. I've always made music without formal musical education, and some people might say, "Well, that's evident." But this requires a great musical knowledge and skill that I'm gaining in small increments. The exciting part is connecting the dots, learning how to physically conduct something and make it sound as I feel it in my body.
Did you get along with the Arboretum's flock of peacocks, which are known to be quite vocal during Pops concerts?
Yes, they are vocal. One night I was onstage and they started their caterwauling. Sometimes, the cadence of their cry sounds like they're saying, "Schmuck! Schmuck!" The only rejoinder was, "Well, everyone's a critic." But being an animal lover and a vegan, I don't mind them at all. I love that they're there.
You must have had to put up with human hecklers early on when you were playing in piano bars.
Playing in piano bars five hours a night was the greatest training I could have had, for many things. Years ago, I was playing in a club on
Has keeping the standards alive been helped by shows such as
I may not always like the interpretation, but the exposure is great, and in that way it's always wonderful. It seems anyone with a waning career will record standards and try to revitalize it. Rod Stewart certainly has had tremendous success, and while I find those interpretations bloodless, at best, whether I like them or not is inconsequential. Because clearly there are many people who love those recordings, and hopefully, it will lead them to the more sublime and more lasting interpretations.
Do you think any singers coming from rock and contemporary pop have done standards well?
Now that you're composing for musicals, are you sensitive to the common complaint that contemporary Broadway shows seldom, if ever, send the audience home humming the songs?
Melody is the key to creating something that is lasting. The problem for me with a lot of contemporary Broadway is that the songs are not particularly well-crafted, in that they do not further the plot. They're often brilliantly staged, but the songs themselves are not very well done. A classic show like "Gypsy" or "My Fair Lady" or "Guys and Dolls," when a character sings something, it creates a moment that transports the audience emotionally to another place. As much as I adore
"The Gershwins' Porgy and Bess" became controversial when Stephen Sondheim sent a letter to the New York Times, objecting that the new revival's title slighted DuBose Heyward, who created the story and co-wrote the lyrics with Ira Gershwin. Sondheim wrote that "most of the lyrics (all of the good ones) are his alone" — meaning Heyward's.
Ira was an equal contributor to the lyrics. Stephen Sondheim has a particular hate for Ira's lyrics, referring to them in his book as "rhyming poison." So I don't feel that Sondheim, brilliant and wonderful as he is, has a very objective perspective about Ira's work. Ira was somehow aware that Sondheim didn't respect him, and that hurt him greatly. Yet, in the Gershwin archive, there's a very complimentary letter that Sondheim wrote to him, so that's kind of an odd situation.
How far along are you with the museum in Indiana?