She tried very hard to get him to like HER music. The Great American Songbook. Broadway musicals, etc. He was very sensitive to songs they gay guys sing. Some songs he knew from his mother, or were just in the ether (how did he KNOW “By the Sea” and “I’m Just Wild About Harry”?)
She got him on SONDHEIM.
At first he missed the subtle clevernesses. They were interesting, story songs. Fillagreed with puns and clever constructions, and the music line wasn’t bad either. He could see why she liked them.
At first, he wasn’t touched by them. But he LOVEd to hear HER talk about them.
She'd get teary-eyed trying to talk about a song, which ruined her singing voice for the rest of the day.
But by then she wasn't singing everyday anymore.
He was doing the Svengali thing, not even sure she'd get the reference. Teaching her, or TRYING to teach her about music. "Up a tone, up a tone, up a tone!!" She was just plain stupid about some things.
Just when he was ready to have her run from the room screaming. Apparently only Sondheim could make her cry.
Stephen Sondheim, Passion
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