Barry Manilow: why we still love the King of Kitsch
By
Lina Das
He is a superstar whose fabulous music is loved by millions.
Its a swelteringly hot day in Palm Springs, California, and
guests at the luxury Hotel Zoso are quietly wilting into their
cappuccinos when Barry Manilow strides in looking cool and crisp in a
black shirt, grey trousers and black shoes buffed to a T.
Hes slim as a whippet, his trademark blond hair is bristling with energy and, at 65, he has the zest of a man half his age.
He
is just back from a series of sellout dates in Canada, where, instead
of the ageing audience you might expect, he was amazed by the young,
vibrant reception he got.
Every year I think to myself, this is it, its all going to stop.
'But, he shrugs, looking incredulous, it just keeps going.
It does indeed. In December, Manilow will be playing two dates at Londons O2 arena.
His songs have been covered by the likes of Take That and Westlife, and
though the critics have been savage at times, frankly, what do they
know?
Sinatra, who knew a thing or two about a good tune, heard Manilow sing back in the 70s and declared, Hes next.
Bob
Dylan cornered him at a party in the 80s when the critics were being
particularly ferocious, and implored Manilow, Dont stop what youre
doing, man. Were all inspired by you.
And now the man we
love to call King of Kitsch is winning a whole new generation of fans
through shows such as American Idol, on which he has made guest
appearances to coach the contestants.
Two years ago, he made headlines when his new album debuted at number one in the US charts.
It would have been labelled a comeback but for the simple fact that Manilow had never actually gone away.
And
it forced even his harshest critics to concede that the man who had
sold almost 80 million records worldwide was worthy of legend status.
As legends go, though, Manilow is surprisingly modest.
I
come from nowhere and since none of my family or friends had a career
in this business, I never took any success I had for granted, he says.
I was just happy being a musician and was hoping to get out
of the poverty [he grew up in Brooklyn, the son of Russian immigrants].
I never cared about having hits or money or fame I just wanted to do what I wanted to do.
Certainly no one could accuse Manilow of not singing from his heart.
He
was the inventor of the power ballad, and the last decade in particular
has seen him accorded due respect for his writing talents in his native
America.
His fan club is thought to be the largest in the world.
And
it is really only in Britain that he has suffered both from juvenile
cracks about his famously beaky nose (No, that doesnt bother me at
all) and from the perception that his fan base consists almost
entirely of females of the screaming persuasion.
His most ardent followers have been dubbed fanilows, but Manilow shudders at the expression.
I
dont like the word fan. The people who come to see me are loyal and
some of them come to so many shows that they feel like friends now.
An intensely private man normally, Manilow has always preferred to let his music rather than his personal life do the talking.
Music, he says, provided him with a means of communication and an escape from the difficulties of his upbringing.
Born Barry Alan Pincus (Manilow is his mothers maiden name), he experienced poverty and abandonment in his formative years.
The only child of Harold and Edna, who divorced when he was two, he rarely got to see his father.
Instead, he and his mother shared their household with Ednas parents, Esther and Joseph.
My
mother worked as a secretary, supporting the family, and my
grandparents worked in a hat factory. It was a struggle at times.
'My playgrounds were alleys lined with rubbish bins. But I knew there was a better life out there.
'And what I had in abundance while I was growing up was love, and that can really take you far.
'Whatever I did, I was told I was great. My family were like, Oh my God, he blew his nose! Isnt he amazing?
'And when youre told youre great as a child, you believe it.
'Because of that Ive never felt like a failure.
His
grandparents encouraged him to take up the accordion, and when he
started singing tunes for his family, they soon realised they had a
huge talent on their hands.
My whole family knew I was
musical, he says. They were unsophisticated and didnt know anything
about the music business, but they never stopped encouraging me.
A huge turning point came when Barry was 13 and his mother married for the second time.
Her
new husband, Willie Murphy, was a truck driver for a beer company
quite a tough, scary guy for a boy whod been raised largely by women
up until then.
'Had I missed my father? Well, I didnt know the
difference at that age because it seemed so normal to me and I was just
this happy little moron doing his own thing.
'But then [Willie] came along; he was the first real father figure I had.
'He had great taste in music and his stack of albums was like a stack of gold to me.
'Albums by Miles Davis, Chet Baker, Sinatra that was like a real epiphany.
'He also threw out my accordion and got me a piano, and that, basically, changed my life.
By 15, Barry had started writing his own music and had formed a jazz band.
I knew I was good at music, and I loved it, and to be young and to know what you want to do with your life is a great thing.
Around this time, however, Barrys home life began to suffer.
His mother and stepfather had begun drinking heavily and, says Manilow, they both had problems with alcoholism.
'I was older by then and able to deal with it, but it does affect you.
'You spend your life looking over your shoulder, wondering whats going to happen next.
'I
got through because of the music, but it wasnt a fun time and I really
feel for young kids raised by alcoholics. I made a decision not to go
that way myself.
Though his mother died in 1994, his stepfather
is in his 80s and very much alive and he still has the most incredible
musical taste.
Manilow had no contact with his birth
father when he was growing up, although when Barry had become famous,
Harold turned up to visit his son backstage.
I was pretty stunned to see him, says Manilow.
My
girlfriend at the time, Linda [Allen, a TV production assistant], was
blubbing at the reunion, but to tell you the truth, I felt so distant
from the entire subject and from him that I was more of an observer to
the scene.
Willie was the father figure in my life and were still in touch; he changed my life.
After
leaving home, Manilow studied at the New York College of Music and the
Juilliard School of Music, working in the CBS TV networks post room to
pay for his tuition.
He began his career as a commercial jingle writer, also singing on adverts for KFC and Pepsi.
In
1971 he met Bette Midler and went on to become her pianist and music
director; at Midlers insistence, he helped produce her first two
albums.
In 1973, at the age of 30, he recorded his debut
album, simply called Barry Manilow, and when the label he was signed to
was taken over by Arista Records, its founder, the renowned impresario
Clive Davis, insisted on keeping Manilow.
It was Davis who
became Barrys mentor and who gave him his big break by insisting he
record a song that Manilow was initially reluctant to sing because he
hadnt written it himself.
That song Mandy went on to
become his first number one, and he then enjoyed a string of hits
through the 70s and the early 80s, including Cant Smile Without You
and Copacabana.
Success, though, brought pressures of its own.
As he says, You can get books on grief and self-help, but there arent any books on how to handle success.
'Generally, you get it when youre quite young, and you get it quickly, and thats a difficult combination.
'After Mandy came out, I fell into the trap of thinking I was so great, he says.
About three or four years into my success, I looked around and realised that I didnt have any friends left.
'Everyone around me I was paying, and they were yes-sing me to death.
'So I started calling up all my old friends and pulled myself together, because I wanted a real life.
'But its so tempting to give in to the success, and maybe thats what were seeing with Amy Winehouse and Britney Spears.
'Its
hard because when you become successful the people around you are too
scared of losing their jobs to say no to you; Ive been there and I
know that you have to want a real life and be firm about getting it.
With a Grammy, an Emmy and a Tony to his name, there seems little left for the man to achieve.
His
songs are his babies although real babies seem to have eluded him
(Having children just doesnt seem to have been on the cards for me).
His marriage to childhood sweetheart Susan Deixler was
annulled in the 60s after less than two years, and since then he has
remained tight-lipped about his private life.
His relationship with Linda Allen lasted for more than two decades, but they have since split.
Were still friends. Im a bachelor, but Im having fun, he says.
To echo the words he sang, he writes the songs that make the whole world sing.
And if that continues, millions of fans wont be complaining.
Photographs: Retna Ltd
Superstar 
USA TODAY
When people think of crazy music fans, old TV images of girls pulling their hair out at an Elvis Presley concert or fainting at the site of The Beatles come to mind. Then there are Jimmy Buffet's Parrot Heads with their props and costumes that proudly defy interpretation. 
Unless someone has a visible 'Tony Hearts Lola' tattoo, it's hard to spot a Fanilow. There are really no outwardly detectable clues.
A snippet from Entertainment Weekly this week
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