I was down in the Gulf Coast when Bacharach remarked that, "Instead of pushing the funding up, they took most of it away to fight this stupid war." I was honestly baffled why a legend would put himself in such an embarrassing position. Turns out it was marketing.
A few weeks later, I got word that November 1 would mark the Columbia Records release of At This Time, marking Burt's debut as a lyricist at the age of seventy-seven.
What's more, the latest from the man who composed "Walk On By" and "Do You Know The Way To San Jose" would also be his first bold steps toward social relevancy.
They tell me the Sony Room has always been part of Sony's Madison Avenue headquarters, but I've never rated a trip before. The usual freeloading writers seem equally thrilled, and typically ready to embrace Burt's Leftist lyrics. I ask one outspoken media type to tell me what's wrong with America. "Just look around," he replies. I see free cocktails and hors d'oeuvres in a gorgeous room with a sensational view. I ask him to elaborate, and he tells me, "Halliburton's coming in to rebuild New Orleans—what's up with that?"
Bacharach strolls into the room at a reasonable time, looking swell as ever in blazer, sweater vest, jeans and sneakers. The hacks crowd one side of the room, looking like awkward adolescents at a school dance where Burt's the only girl.
Bacharach tells us he's thrilled that Rolling Stone has called At This Time one of the year's most anticipated records. Jann Wenner's probably looking forward to our grandparents' outrage.
But as it turns out, At This Time is a great record. The guest beats by Dr. Dre haven't kept Bacharach from daring to make an easy-listening album. Any fan of the genre knows that leaves lots of room for strange tension and bizarre moments.
The listening begins with "Go Ask Shakespeare." There'll be a radio edit, but the album track is an extended instrumental with haunting brass and slithering strings worthy of an Italian slasher film. Rufus Wainwright eventually steps in to sing that "I've been trying/ I've been holding on/ Though the days are empty in a world gone wrong."
I can relate. I lived through Mayor Dinkins.
Things only get more right-wing when Bacharach unveils "Where Did It Go?" Bacharach sings: "When I was a young boy/ 12 years old/ Growing up in New York City/ I could ride the subway by myself/ And never, ever be afraid/ Where did it go?"
He sounds a lot like Archie Bunker singing "Didn't need no welfare state." I'm starting to feel good about the evening until Bacharach concludes with "Who Are These People?", which he calls "the cornerstone of what At This Time is about." Perhaps he also believes the United Nations is the cornerstone of integrity in world affairs. Musically and lyrically it's self-parody that's close to how kids imagine Bacharach: "This stupid mess we're in just keeps getting worse/ So many people dying needlessly/ Looks like the liars may inherit the earth/ Even pretending to pray/ And getting away with it."
It all has the shameless dementia of a Cindy Sheehan blog entry. Fortunately, "Who Are These People?" is a sole aberration.
It's also the conclusion of the listening portion of our evening, and people swarm Burt to congratulate him on—well, mostly for being Burt Bacharach. Nobody's asking him anything about the album, though. I decide that it's only polite to ask him what kind of people he's afraid his young son might encounter on today's subways.
"I'm afraid of public transportation," Burt replies, in elegantly measured tones. "I was just in London, where they're blowing up buses. It's a more dangerous world." That's true, but other things helped make the subway more dangerous over the six decades between Burt's childhood and 9/11. I mention the failed social programs of the '70s, before noting that a right-winger like myself thinks Bacharach has written an impressive song about our sad Leftist existence.
"I don't think of it quite that way," says Burt. "It's interesting that you do. I'm thinking more about what's gone wrong in the past four years. You come from a different political spectrum. The thing is, the album is also about love. That's why the album has that early reference to 'What The World Needs Now.' We need love."
And I'd rather hear that from Burt than from some sad pierced girl handing out anti-Semitic flyers in Union Square. I prefer Paul Williams, however, as a political activist. In addition to challenging Bacharach as a hit songwriter, Williams once ran an ad in Variety protesting anti-gay crusader Anita Bryant. A lot of folks threatened to boycott the Florida orange juice industry that she did ads for, but Williams said he was giving up screwdrivers. That was a true sacrifice—as the reformed alcoholic will gladly tell you.
