Looks Like He Made It

“Hack a hit” was Barry Manilow’s apt introductory description to his concert at the Kodak Theatre on Friday. And to some extent he was right.

Still coughing and snorting with symptoms of the bronchitis that forced him to cancel his bookings the previous week at the Kodak (with the exception of an appearance on New Year’s Eve), he nonetheless delivered a characteristically high-spirited presentation, repeatedly generating impassioned shouts and cheers from an adulatory, packed-house crowd.

Manilow, 55, springs from a generation of songwriters who came to maturity during an era when songs had a life of their own, not necessarily associated solely with their composers, pliable enough to suit the styles of a variety of singers.

And one of the most meaningful aspects of his craft as a singer is his ability to bring songs vividly to life, regardless of their source. (“I Write the Songs” and “Mandy,” for example--two of his biggest hits--were composed, respectively, by Bruce Johnston and by Scott English and Richard Kerr. Few would question that Manilow has made them his own.)

The current Manilow tour, which kicked off last month in Las Vegas, supports a new album--”Here at the Mayflower”--on a new (for Manilow) label, Concord.

But far too wise a showman to concentrate solely on new material, he spent a good portion of the program touring through his remarkable collection of hit songs--”Even Now,” “Looks Like We Made It,” “Copacabana,” “Mandy” and “I Write the Songs,” to name only a few that surfaced individually and in medleys.

Sounding in fine vocal form and striding the stage confidently, Manilow displayed his capacity to bring style and drama to his interpretations. Although his own songs--at least those targeted at the pop charts--tend to rely on similar combinations of suspended chords, dramatic shifts of key and theatrical climaxes, he delivered them with a directness and an openness that more than compensated for their often contrived qualities.

The balance of the performance, however, revealed a creative duality that has long been present in Manilow’s art.

Enormously successful as a pop act, he is clearly drawn to the musical theater’s richer potential for artistic subtleties.

Two of the evening’s selections were from a Manilow musical-in-progress based upon the pre-World War II story of Germany’s Comedian Harmonists--a popular vocal ensemble destroyed by the Nazi regime. “Harmony,” the title song, was Manilow at his creative best, reaching into layers of musicality rarely present in his pop items.

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The songs from “Here at the Mayflower” didn’t quite reach the same level of achievement. But the format--a collection of numbers describing people and events in the units of an urban apartment building--was thematic enough to allow Manilow’s imagination to rove freely. “Not What You See,” a lovely description of an elderly couple, was typical--performed in touching, eminently believable fashion.

With dozens of tour dates lined up for 2002, it’s likely that Manilow’s creative duality will continue to remain unresolved. But the brief taste of “Harmony” and portions of “Mayflower” suggest that--despite his many pop music successes--Manilow still possesses a great deal of unfulfilled creative potential.