A strident laugh, an innocent, childish smile of pleasure, a triumphant shout. In your perplexity you can do no more than nod as you turn away-but your nod brings a strange response. He takes a step forward, and his eyes are eager, pleading. “Like it?” he says, and eyes you expectantly. The hand extends in a sweeping gesture that embraces the far horizon, and you notice that the fingers are maimed or missing. You stare, take in the slumping contortion of one crippled shoulder and the hideous scar of a missing ear, and back away in alarm.
The leathery face is scarred and wrinkled, the thin strands of hair glistening white. Directly below, you see the curious landscaping of an eighteenth-century French jardin and, nearby, the Moliere Theater.Ī hand clutches your sleeve, and you turn suddenly, irritably, and find yourself face to face with an old man. The twin towers of a facsimile of the Rheims Cathedral rise above the horizon. They watch eagerly, delighted to see in person what millions are watching on visiscope.īeyond the theater, the tree-lined Frank Lloyd Wright Boulevard curves into the distance, past the Dante Monument and the Michelangelo Institute. Sunlight plays on their brightly-colored clothing. Off to the left, on the slope of a hill, you see the tense spectators who crowd the Grecian Theater for Euripides. You are standing in the observation gallery of the towering Bach Monument.
It is awesome, it is overpowering, it is-everything.Īnd though few of its visitors know about this, or care, it is also haunted. The Center is colossal, spectacular and magnificent. It is a monumental summary of man's cultural heritage, and like a phoenix, it has emerged suddenly, inexplicably, at the end of the twenty-fourth century, from the corroded ashes of an appalling cultural decay. It is square miles of undulating American Middle West farm land, transfigured by ingenious planning and relentless labor and incredible expense. It is the vacation land of the Solar System. From the babe in arms to the centenarian looking forward to retirement, everyone has been there, and plans to go again next year, and the year after that. It isn't possible to explain the Center, and it isn't necessary. You can emerge from the rolling mists of the Amazon, or the cutting dry winds of the Sahara, or the lunar vacuum, elbow your way up to a bar, and begin, “When I was at the Center-” and every stranger within hearing will listen attentively. From Bombay to Lima, from Spitsbergen to the mines of Antarctica, from the solitary outpost on Pluto to that on Mercury, it is-the Center. It has another name, a long one, that gets listed in government appropriations and has its derivation analyzed in encyclopedias, but no one uses it. For those interested in the latter, Songwriters on Songwriting: The Expanded Version (Da Capo, 1997), a collection of interviews between editor Paul Zollo and a variety of songwriters, including Webb, is the ticket. And Webb's nuts-and-bolts approach somehow undercuts every songwriter's need for that spark of absolute inspiration. While Webb's fans will revel in the behind-the-scenes details of his career and a candid view of his artistic process, others may wish that the asides, finger pointing (at arrogant co-writers) and Webb's own pet peeves (e.g., no-talent spouses who insist on songwriting credits on their partner's records) had been left out. Of greatest value, perhaps, are the exercises suggested for developing song ideas, which will help anyone stumbling through a period of writer's block. In addition to salient comments on today's music scene, Webb cites numerous examples from the past and includes sections on writing for the stage and film. Here he seeks to impart the tools of the trade to songwriters ""who may be attempting the delicate transition from amateur to professional."" Covering technical matters from basic chord theory and rhyme schemes to the protocol of pitching songs, Webb draws on a trove of personal anecdotes from a career spanning more than two decades. The only artist to receive Grammy Awards for music, lyrics and orchestration, Webb has written many of the most memorable songs performed by the Fifth Dimension (""Up, Up and Away""), Donna Summer (""MacArthur Park"") and Amy Grant (""If These Walls Could Speak""), among others.
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