“A BEAUTIFUL NOISE: THE NEIL DIAMOND MUSICAL” at the Orpheum through Oct. 12
Framing devices for celebrity songbook musicals must get harder to come by with each new rock ‘n’ roll anthology licensed to Broadway producers. How many ways can an artist’s life be set to their greatest hits?
We’ve seen Michael Jackson’s painful road to success triggered by a documentary film crew. There was Tina Turner reconciling with her childhood self. The idol’s arc from talented youth to superstardom varies only in the shape and size of the speed bumps along the way.
Neil Diamond in therapy, I admit, was an unexpected prompt for the flashbacks comprising the plot of “A Beautiful Noise: The Neil Diamond Musical.”
The Broadway tour’s Orpheum visit opens with a lanky, sullen senior citizen in street clothes slouching moodily across from a counselor. He’s humoring his third wife, who thinks it’s time he finally address a lifetime of depression. Long after he’s left the spotlight, “clouds” continue to darken his retirement.
As futility nears, the character called “Doctor” produces a massive tome of Diamond’s collected lyrics. For those who may only know him for a few songs on easy listening stations or the stadium singalong “Sweet Caroline,” the size of the book helpfully reminds us that we are in the presence of a songwriting hall-of-famer. Thumbing through the lyrics revives a lifetime of memories, conveniently, in chronological order.
From the moment singer Nick Fradiani hits the stage as a young Neil Diamond, the show delivers the goods for hardcore fans. Theater aficionados may have gripes about the show itself, but sonically, it’s one helluva tribute concert. The band is fire, and Fradiani has Diamond’s vocals so accurately pegged that I couldn’t take my ears off of him. Perfectly described as “gravel wrapped in velvet… Like you just woke up and tripped over an ashtray,” it’s the rare pop baritone that purrs as powerfully as it roars.
Generations several times removed from Diamond’s chart dominance might be more familiar with Fradiani’s American Idol win in 2015. His understated acting is perhaps expected of one who aspired to rock stardom. But the performance also seems tuned to a time period when stars were not competing with lasers and pyrotechnics. Diamond strummed guitar and sang a mix of ballads and well-orchestrated pop. Compared to Jackson’s dancing and Turner’s shimmying showmanship, Diamond’s centerstage belting doesn’t easily lend itself to Broadway-level theatricality. For flair, the show relies on a cast full of dancers and choristers apparently borrowed from Up with People, or at best, a ’70s variety show.
Diamond’s life, too, is short on the usual rockstar struggles: addiction, abusive relationships, run-ins with the law. But it’s refreshing in its own way to see a musical grappling with the mundane reality of chronic depression — how existential malaise can weigh so heavily on some of our most beloved figures,
A good biographical musical stokes renewed interest in its subject. Audience members should leave eager for some Wikipedia research and maybe to stream a bunch of B-sides and fan faves not included in the show, like “Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon” or “I’ve Been This Way Before.”
Since opening night, Diamond has been on heavy rotation in my own house. Seeking more of that live energy, I spent an entire evening with arguably Diamond’s greatest live record, “Hot August Night,” a double album from 1972.
For the first time — and this is thanks to the musical — recurring themes of loneliness or loss really started popping out of Diamond’s songwriting. For all the hits that make listeners feel good, such as “Cherry, Cherry,” and Cracklin’ Rosie,” there are numerous raw confessionals like “I Am… I said,” “Solitary Man” and even “Shilo,” written about an imaginary friend.
In light of the darkness that clouded Diamond’s success, even tent-revival rockers like “Holly Holy” and “Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show” seem defiant– spiritual shields against the ever-returning sadness.
For reasons probably best appreciated by those who already know the music, “A Beautiful Noise: The Neil Diamond Musical” comes off as a more poetic recapitulation of Diamond’s oeuvre than some other musicals that use the music primarily to forward the plot. It encourages a different kind of listening.
Diamond’s “Easy Listening” categorization and polished sound may have contributed to his being underrated during his own era. Today, a list of the greatest solo artists of his peer group would likely include Elvis, Elton John, David Bowie, Carole King…
My straw polling among friends turned up not one mention of Diamond as even a cultural blip, though in terms of sales, he’s among the top-20 solo artists of all time. For me, hearing Fradiani sing these songs so impeccably and alongside the biographical context warrants Diamond’s reconsideration among the greats.
No doubt Memphians will get one other kick from this show — a big Memphis win. In or around 1969, during a visit to the Bluff City, Diamond was in a “shitty” hotel room struggling to come up with a hit. Spying a magazine with a young Caroline Kennedy on the cover, he spent the next hour whipping up what would become his most iconic tune. He then headed uptown to the legendary American Sound Studio and, backed by an all-star group of Memphis session players, recorded “Sweet Caroline.” The staple of sporting events nationwide had the entire Orpheum audience with their hands in the air “reaching out, touching me, touching you.”
In a show about making meaningful connections, no song is more apropos. Or therapeutic. ✒ C.B.
