One reason I made The Broadway Album is that I felt I had to stop recording songs that any number of other people could sing as well, if not better than I could. It was time for me to do something I truly believed in.

I've wanted to make this album for a long time, because I started on Broadway, and it was kind of a return to my roots. This is music that I have great respect for, great love for - some of the most beautiful melodies ever written, some of the greatest lyrics ever written, and I'm the lucky person to get a chance to sing them. I've been making lists for this album for a long time. It seems like forever. I love the songs we recorded, and left out as many as those that made the final disc. It's only a self-portrait, I think, in terms of my taste, my integrity. This material is much greater than I am. George Gershwin's Porgy and Bess is an American classic. I'm an interpreter. I serve this material as best as I can. I was lucky enough to be able to do the album. I wanted a two-record set. That was absolutely out, but I still got in 18 songs. I've always wanted to do "Adelaide's Lament." I was glad the extra time available on CD enabled me to include it. There are so many songs I want to do.

Musically, I've felt compelled to try everything. The most difficult singing project was my classical album, because classical singing is such a disciplined art form. As in rock, the rhythms are very specific. Because I am a singer who believes in the moment, I do each take of a song differently. You can't do that with rock and roll, because everyone says that you have to sing on the beat, and that's very hard for me.

While I was working on The Broadway Album, I went back and listened to my first two records, and I just cringed listening to some of the performances. Although I had a purer, reed-like sound in those days, I think my singing then was often overly dramatic and screechy.

A few years ago, Jule Styne approached me about playing the mother in Gypsy. I re-read the script, and I just heard Ethel Merman all over again. It seemed impossible even to attempt it. I did, however, want to record songs from the show. I worked on "Rose's Turn" for quite a while for this album, but I couldn't quite solve it. I even asked Stephen [Sondheim] to try and figure a way of integrating it with "Some People," but it didn't work. I was also considering doing several other songs from Sunday in the Park with George, like "Move On" and "Finishing the Hat" and "Children and Art." But, I'll probably get to those songs on Volume Two, which I'm already thinking about.

I had been thinking about doing an album of Broadway songs for years. When I finally got around to it, I called up Steve and said I was interested in doing some of his songs. We hardly knew each other, and I had only recorded one of this songs, "There Won't Be Trumpets," which ended up not being released. My repertoire in the early years was much older than that: old Rodgers and Hart, early Harold Arlen. I think there were also simpler lyrics in some of the songs I recorded, but I now appreciate the complexity. Some people accuse Stephen of being too intellectual or too sophisticated, but that's what I think is so extraordinary about him.

I didn't know if he trusted me when he first met me. Was I going to hurt the songs in some way? But I think, as he thought about it, he got excited by the ideas. He didn't close his mind to the experience of having something changed. He was fabulous to work with and fabulous to argue with. This was one of the most exciting collaborations I've ever had, because we both talk fast, we think fast; so it was like shorthand half the time. We practically didn't have to finish sentences. It turned into a process that was so exhilarating, there were moments I was screaming with joy over the phone. Although I'd never sung any of Stephen's songs before, I guess with this album, I was making up for lost time.

Each one of these songs is from a Broadway play, so that means there was a story behind it. There was a character; the song came out of a situation. That's why I was drawn to making this album. Because I think of myself as an actress first and then a singer, I look for things, I look for songs to act. When you sing theater songs that have a kind of built-in story, you instinctively operate more as an actress. When you sing a pop song, who are you? I guess you are yourself. But, when you sing a song from the theater, somehow you become more of a character. The first albums I made, they weren't called "Broadway Albums," but seven out of ten songs were from Broadway shows, because I'm drawn to songs that have a place to go. They have a beginning, middle, and an end. They're like little plays.

Making Yentl wiped me out and left me with no drive for two years. But, once I commit to a project, whether it's a record or a movie, I become so involved with every aspect that I become obsessed. It's both a blessing and a curse, because I'm incapable of turning it off at 7 o'clock every night. I got fascinated with the "technological" aspect of recording which I really never paid that much attention to, not to this extent, because you start asking questions. A record is a round disc and there's different limitations. There's limitations of sound on the outer band as compared to the inner band, just the velocity, the depth of the groove. When I started asking questions, like "When I sing a song that starts very soft and gets very loud at the end, why does it sound squashed on a record sometimes?" There are all kinds of compromises one has to make. Well, I always ask why. I ask a lot of questions, which makes me sometimes a pain in the neck to people, because I always want to understand the process and push the limits.

You really have to get involved in every aspect of an album. It's like making a movie. I had someone at the plant when the cover was being printed to make sure the color was exactly what I wanted on the liner. Did you notice how it matched the color of my hat on the cover? It's a concept, all of it, and it has to work together.

No matter how fascinated I am by anything technical, the basis of all good art to me is feeling. That's why I love anything to do with creating something, because you cannot lie. It doesn't sell, it doesn't transmit. The audience doesn't feel anything. At the basic core of anything technical is the feeling. In other words, if you're making a movie and the lights are perfect and the sound is great but there's no truth in the performance, you have nothing. And yet, if the lighting isn't as good, the sound isn't as good, but you have a moment of truth, a moment of pure honest feeling, it will be okay.

- Putting It Together -

I thought it would be interesting to open the album with dialogue that comments on the age-old struggle between art and business, which is what the song ["Putting It Together"] is about in the show. I told him [Sondheim] of my conversation with my record company, where I told them I didn't want to do another pop album at this time, that I wanted to do an album of Broadway songs. And, they were very resistant and unhappy. There were so many people against it. They said, "Barbra, you can't do a record like this. It's not commercial. This is like your old records. Nobody's going to buy it." These are words I've heard all my life. You see, when I first started, when I was 18 years-old, 19 years-old, making my first album, I was told the same exact dialogue. What kind of songs are these? This was the era of the Beatles and Bob Dylan, so this kind of music, singing Harold Arlen, or Cole Porter, or Rodgers and Hart was unheard of. And, again, the same dialogue now 23 years later. There are always those who are gonna say, "No, you can't. No, you shouldn't." There's a line that Stephen wrote, "All they ever want is repetition/All they really like is what they know." They know what they understand, they know what has worked before. Anybody breaking new ground or doing something that is not so-called commercial, if one is not making a teeny bopper movie at the time teeny bopper movies are popular, the establishment is afraid. But, this is not what is so-called commercial. Except, if they really look at the facts, my biggest hits were always ballads. That's what I do best, ballads, whether it's "The Way We Were," or "You Don't Bring Me Flowers," or "People," they're all ballads. So, I never understood the opposition to this album. I still don't. very word they said only encouraged me. I wanted to put all their comments into this song. And, I thought, "What a great way to open the album."

The words you hear at the beginning of Stephen Sondheim's "Putting It Together" were words that were said as they tried to discourage me from making this record. Since I always like to use the truth, I put them in the mouths of the "Executive Chorus": "Why take chances?"..."It's just not commercial"..."No one's gonna buy it."

I wanted to do it as if it were a Broadway show, in a sense, and Broadway shows are done live and they're even recorded live, like Broadway cast albums. There's a certain energy in doing it live, performing it live. My friends came and played with me - Sydney Pollack, who I got a chance to direct because he directed me, and it was really fun, and David Geffen, who's a friend and the head of Geffen Records, so he could play this part very easily, and Ken Sylk, who's my friend and an actor. It was great working with Peter Matz again, who did my first few albums, and we even had some of the same musicians that played for me in Funny Girl on the stage 22 years ago. It took about a month of rehearsals with Peter Matz. Then, Stephen Sondheim came in and helped us at the end just to pare down, to figure out how to take "Putting It Together" from the show and sort of put it together for a record. It's interesting, challenging work.

I would talk to him for hours. I felt I couldn't ignore the truth; you don't hide it, you use it. So, I told him, "Here I am, a very successful recording star and yet I have to fight for everything I believe in. I'm still auditioning after 23 years." I asked him if he could encompass that thought, and he wrote, "Even though you get the recognition/Everything you do you still audition." I think it applies to many kinds of art. It could be a writer writing a book, arguing with his publisher or his editor, or a filmmaker trying to get his film made.

It's always a fight. If you believe in something, there isn't any other way. Look how long it took me to finance Yentl. Nobody wanted to see a movie about a young Jewish boy. Even the Yentl soundtrack album was a fight. Columbia didn't expect it to sell at all, but it has sold over 3.5 million copies. No matter how big a so-called star or so-called big star you are, you always have to prove yourself. It is ironic and it is sad, but it is true. You still have to audition. Nobody's too big a star to ever not have to audition and sell yourself for something you truly believe in.

It took a month to work on one song, which is what I love about singing this kind of material. There's a line in the show, "A vision's just a vision/If it's only in your head/If no one gets to see it/It's as good as dead," and I wanted him to change it to "If no one gets to hear it," and we had a wonderful argument. He said, "You can't hear a vision; that's a visual thing. It's a vision, right?" And, I said, "No, no, I hear a vision. In other words, I hear the album done; so it's a vision of it. It's an audio vision." And, he gave in to me, because he said, "The rules are that whoever is the most passionate about something wins."

We did a half-hour Making of The Broadway Album for HBO, which includes me recording "Putting It Together." I was very "up" because there was an audience, but--Can you believe it?--it turned out we could only do one take. What you'll see on the special is all there was, because the 24-track master tape was "accidentally" erased. This has never happened to me before, not in 20 years of recording. The sound you'll hear on the song is taken off a 2-track Nagra. Unbelievable.

I love to experiment. I recorded "Can't Help Lovin' That Man" three different ways, with three different orchestrations until it felt right. I thought the trumpet made it feel a little too jazzy. In other words, it didn't feel right the first time. Then, I remembered that I had seen in the 1950's Ava Gardner in the movie Showboat, sitting as a teenager in the movie theater, watching her, listening to her sing that song. I remember being moved by it, so I had to find this record. We searched all the shops and finally came up with a $30.00 record to find Showboat with Ava Gardner singing this magnificent arrangement that was so simple, the most gorgeous harmonies on the strings. I thought, let's just use that. It was really hard to improve on.

Richard Baskin, who produced several cuts on this album -- we were talking one day about maybe adding an instrument, a saxophone. He came up with the idea of a harmonica. And, we said, "Who's going to play the harmonica?" And, he said, "Why don't you ask Stevie Wonder?" And, I thought, "Ask Stevie Wonder? Do you think he'd ever do this?" He said, "Well, just call him up and ask him." I called up Stevie, and I said, "Would you consider playing the harmonica on my song?" He said, "Absolutely. What time? Where?" He's magnificent, and what a musician and lovely person. He just came in and said, "What do you want me to do?" He listened to the song a few times, and he just started playing. I didn't want to stop him. He wanted to know exactly what, and each time he did it, it came from his soul.

I didn't understand "Send in the Clowns" when I first heard it, which is why I didn't sing it years ago. I thought it was the most gorgeous melody, but I didn't understand that kind of irony yet, the kind of cynicism that is inherent in the lyric. I wasn't mature enough to sing it. It's like growing into a part like Medea or Hedda Gabler; it's not good when you're 20. You need to be older. I wanted to understand it better, so I called him [Sondheim] up, and I asked him to explain it to me and exactly how it worked in the show. I had seen the show, but I wanted to hear it from him. Because this was written for an English woman in the show, that's why there are certain phrases that sound very fancy, like "Sorry, my dear" or "My fault, I fear," and I didn't quite know how to approach this. I also thought that the bridge was absolutely exquisite, and I had wanted musically to return to the bridge. But, I didn't want to sing the same lyric again, so I asked him how did he feel about writing a new lyric. What is so extraordinary about him is that he said he would try. He believes, as I do, that art is a very living process, that as we grow, our art grows, hopefully. Even though he wrote that song 12 years ago, he was willing to examine it again.

I am a singing actress who likes to create little dramas. And, as an actress, I didn't understand the last line, "Well, maybe next year." When I was singing the lyric, "Don't bother, they're here," which comes in the middle of the song, it was such a dramatic moment, it's such a brilliant line, that to me I felt it should be the end of the song. I asked him if I could change the position of that line, which he allowed me to do. I just thought it was so incredible of him not to say that this piece of work will never change, because it was such a wonderful piece to begin with. I didn't know how he would react, but he was so cute. He said a lot of people had asked him what the song meant - now they would understand it.

The song that was a surprise - how deeply it appealed to people - was "Not While I'm Around." I fell in love with it when I saw the show [Sweeney Todd]. It was in my head for years. I thought it was one of the great lyrics and melodies; everyone can understand it and relate to it. We produced two versions of it. The first was too lush and grand; the arrangement was too big for the song and overpowered the delicacy of it. The second one, which was what we used, was more fitting to the size of the song. It had more of a quiet intensity, and my interpretation changed. The first time, I was singing it as a lover to her lover. The second time I sang it, I was more of a mother singing to my son. My character changed.

I loved the melody of "Pretty Women," but didn't feel comfortable singing from a male point of view. That's when I thought, "Why don't I put it together with 'The Ladies Who Lunch'?" I thought it would be interesting to put the songs together to present two opposing views of women - a superficial view versus what their lives might really be like - but I needed a lyrical ending that would pull the two together. "The Ladies Who Lunch" is a very cynical song, putting down a certain kind of woman. "Pretty Women," on the surface, is adoring of women. And, I thought it might be like the way I had sung "Happy Days Are Here Again," cynically. My attitude in my performance of it was, "Are these really happy days?"

So, I looked at "Pretty Women" from a more questioning point of view. Who are these women who are so pretty? When you first sing about pretty women and create those pictures about how lovely they are, that's one vision of women. Then, I started to change the reading a bit (it might be too subtle to get), but on the kind of "breathing lightly," I started to sort of make a little fun of those women who are just pictures on the arms of their husbands. They dress beautifully, and they stand in the mirrors, and they brush their hair, because they have nothing else to do. In a way, I envy them. They have no ambition; they're not obsessed by their work. Their work is to be pretty, to adorn a man. They get everything bought for them, they get taken care of completely, they have massages, work out at the gym, buy clothes, and they live long; they have no stress. In a deep, secret part of me, when I was 15 years-old, I would have loved to be voted the prettiest girl in high school, and I wasn't. In other words, I could express a lot of feelings in that song, "Pretty Women." It's not just a superficial song for me. It has a lot of complexities, resonance into my life. At the end I am glad I am not one of them. These women became the ladies who lunch. At the beginning I perhaps envy them a bit.

"If I Loved You" is the exquisite Rodgers & Hammerstein ballad from Carousel. What I loved about singing it was the subtext of the lyric, the multi-layers...the character's tentativeness while feeling great inner passion. You start a song like "If I Loved You," a character singing to another character. This is only if I loved you. This is what I would do if I loved you. You can't take these words for granted. In other words, if you really look at that lyric, there is an enormous thing to act. When I was recording the song, there were some young people there who had never heard it before, and they said, "What a great new song!" They almost didn't believe me when I told them it was written 42 years ago.

Because of the dynamics on "Somewhere," [CBS] didn't want it as a [closing track] - too hard to cut and get the full range that close to the end of the disc. The first master tape I heard had everything squeezed flat; the song lost its build. For the CD I cranked up the volume on "Somewhere" and took all the EQ off the tape. That was an overreaction to what I heard on the LP test pressing; I brought it back to its natural level. I think its message is universal. One can listen to the lyric of "Somewhere" and relate to it on any level. From whatever walk of life you are, from whatever perspective you have, somehow you can relate to "Somewhere."

My life is better now than it has ever been. I appreciate things more and feel more grateful for what I have. One thing I've never done is pay attention to my voice. I've never pampered it or thought about it. It just served me. Now I realize I'm at an age when it's not automatically going to serve me for much longer. I've made all these records, 38 all told. What I want to do now is cut down on recording, because it takes so much out of me. Broadway has kept me away for directing for eight months. I have to get back to making movies. I'd like to do concerts again someday, but I suffer from terrible stage fright. It's a question of how many battles you can gear up for every year. The record business has changed so much.

This album gave me the opportunity to live up to the greatness of this material. I thought the album would do respectively. I never thought it would be such a big hit. Commercial success is something I never counted on or cared about for this album...but the record company did. It made me feel good that so many people appreciated these songs as much as I did. To the record company's surprise and delight, the album went to #1...sweet artistic justice.

Monologue Sources

• William Friedkin interview, 10/29/85, Putting It Together: The Making of The Broadway Album, Fox Video
• Stephen Holden, "This Is The Music I Love. It Is My Roots," NY Times, 11/10/85
• Stephen Holden, "The Way She Is," Us magazine, 2/10/86
• Rod McKuen, "Barbra Streisand Stages a Hit," Digital Audio magazine, 2/86
• Barbra Streisand, Just For The Record..., Columbia Records, 9/24/91
• Barbara Walters interview, The Barbara Walters Special, ABC-TV, 9/13/85
• Craig Zadan, Sondheim & Co., 1986

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