In his surprisingly frank autobiography, Bacharach tells of how, after the release of the Austin Powers films (in which he and his music make many amusing cameos), seven-year-olds came up to him in the street and could recognise his music. A whole new generation were able to experience such luscious melodies as ‘The Look of Love’ and ‘I’ll Never Fall in Love Again’, all thanks to Mike Myers. And it was through Mike Myers’ goofy Bond pastiche that I too fell in love with Burt’s music and have been a devout fan and collector of his music ever since. When I heard he was giving a one-of-a-kind concert in Cardiff, I even took a morning off school to secure my ticket.
Burt Bacharach is one of the most legendary and prolific composers of recent years, boasting an endless catalogue of sumptuous tunes. Often in partnership with the late and great lyricist Hal David, Bacharach’s songs have been performed by such greats as Dusty Springfield, Dionne Warwick, Marlene Dietrich, Aretha Franklin, Sandie Shaw, Tom Jones, Gene Pitney, Perry Como and, erm, Cilla Black… But, in this concert, complete with a tremendous trio of singers and a dazzling orchestra, Burt Bacharach takes to the Steinway and plays through his favourite ‘magic moments’ over his remarkable career.
Kicking off the evening though is support act Georgia Train who, after greeting the packed-out and eager house, played some of her own wistful and affecting music, her confessional lyrics contemplating heartbreak, love and loss. With her impressively soaring voice, she certainly calmed down the keen and fervent audience, desperate to get an earful of Burt.
After a short interval, Burt finally entered to rapturous applause with his orchestra and singers taking their places. At 87, it was quite magical to see Bacharach, though frail and hoarse, in such high spirits and even more extraordinary to see him play a non-stop two-hour show. Although his Glastonbury set was perhaps a little lukewarm, the theatre is certainly where Burt’s music works best and where he and his singers seem to be more comfortable.
His set begins with two medleys of all his hits, merging ‘Walk on By’ into ‘Wishin’ and Hopin’’ and so on, with harmonies galore. But it is when each singer is given their own solo song that their true talent shines through. Josie James gives a gorgeous performance of ‘Anyone Who Had A Heart’, beginning tenderly before building up to a gut-wrenching climax. ‘I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself’ is sung wonderfully by John Pagano, who later gets out his acoustic guitar and croons Bacharach’s only politically-charged song ‘Windows of the World’. And Donna Taylor, with her beautifully misty voice, performs an obscure but nevertheless absorbing song ‘Waiting for Charlie to Come Home’, originally sung by the late Etta James. Bill Cantos, on keyboards, also treats us to the joyous and uplifting ‘My Little Red Book’ – Bacharach’s sophisticated attempt at a rock-n-roll song.
Every area of Bacharach’s career is covered – his first four hits, his unforgettable film music, even some of his newer songs. The silver-haired maestro even croaks through some himself, making for moving versions of ‘Raindrops…’ and ‘Alfie’. He becomes so absorbed by the music in performance – throwing flourishes of the hand at key moments, his eyes closed, his lips miming every word.
The evening ends, after two standing ovations, with an awkward singalong of ‘Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head’ with the blue-rinsed brigade mumbling through the more complex verses, but rushing to the front to get a touch of the musical Messiah’s hand.
Burt Bacharach is one of the few heroes of mine who did not disappoint in the flesh. Though he looks undoubtedly fragile on stage, there is no doubt that Bacharach relished the opportunity to share his music once again with a theatre filled with devotees, all toe-tapping the night away.