I’m thrilled to have had the honor of an exclusive interview with talented lyricist Mr. Enoch Anderson for It Could Be Magic! As many of you know, Mr. Anderson is responsible for the beautiful lyrics to many of Barry Manilow’s gorgeous songs. He’s collaborated with Barry on his original album Here at the Mayflower and most recently he’s been working with Barry on his (hopefully) soon-to-be-released album of original music, 15 Minutes.
Helen Holdun: Thank you, Enoch for taking time out of your busy schedule to share insight into your life as well as the intricate process of taking the vision of a thought, word, concept through collaboration and ultimately bringing to life the amazing songs we love.
I believe writing is a gift. Technique can be taught, but the ability to make it reach others comes from the heart and soul. When did you realize you had the gift to set verse to music? As music is Barry Manilow’s passion, has writing lyrics been yours? Do you write poetry or other literature?
Enoch Anderson: You’re making me consider things I haven’t thought about for a long time. I would say that storytelling was always my passion. My mother used to joke that I was an easy child to take care of: “All I had to do was set you outside in the yard and you’d rotate around a bush moving your lips until dinnertime!” I made up stories to entertain other kids, and I would coax my mother or grandmother to write them down for me. I tried to figure out writing, and couldn’t understand why the same sound for the same word could be represented by two different hieroglyphs—I was looking at capital letters and small-case letters, but I didn’t know that at the time. My mother was very worried about all this, because she thought if I figured out how to write, then I wouldn’t be allowed in first grade when I reached school age! Anyway, I was always making up little plays or “books” or whatever…I think it was when I was a teenager that songwriting became a focus.
Since this interview is primarily in relation to your collaboration with Barry Manilow, I’m going to focus on his songs, but who are some other artists you’ve worked with? What other songs might we recognize?
Very early on, I wrote my own music. When I was in high school, I brought a couple songs to a local theatre group and heard nothing more about it…some months later when I went to see their play, they were using my songs, although there was no credit given in the program and no one acknowledged me. Welcome to show business!
Later, when I had moved to California and begun to work with Barry, I did collaborate with a number of other composers. One was John Gluck (composer of the vintage hit “It’s My Party, and I’ll Cry If I Want To”) and we wrote a couple musical shows, Why Doesn’t Father Come Home? (which played for several months in San Francisco) and The Lighthouse of County Clare (which played off—very far off-Broadway in New York City). Neither were recorded. We began a third show, about San Francisco’s memorable street eccentric, Emperor Norton, but it was never completed. John Gluck is now deceased.
I also wrote with a composer named Brian Neary; one of our songs, “Tomorrow Child,” was recorded by David Soul (who was then starring in Starsky and Hutch) and also Donna Fargo.
The connection with Barry was a blessing in that it opened doors, but less so in that some other composers were more interested in using me to get their songs to Barry than in actually writing with me!
I read that “I want to be Somebody’s Baby” was the first lyric you gave to Barry.
That’s correct. I mailed it to him along with “Sandra.” With them was a third one, a mock-country song called “Down by the La Brea Tar Pits (I Got a Sinking Feeling Over You)” which I included in case he told me my writing was terrible…then I’d be able to point at the third one and say, “Well, obviously it was all just a joke!”
What was your first song? Was it a hit? Do you have a song you’re most proud of?
Do you mean my first recorded song? “Somebody’s Baby.” (It’s a coincidence that in his current Vegas act, Barry is performing “Somebody’s Baby,” the first one we ever did, and “Everything’s Gonna Be All Right,” our most recent song!)
In response to the second part of your question, none of my songs were ever released as singles, so I’ve had no hits…yet! Funny story in connection with that: I was in Vegas some years ago to see Barry when he was at the Hilton, and I was strolling through the casino with Monica Pege, an old friend who was one of his backup singers. A woman recognized Monica and came rushing up to her in great excitement to get an autograph. Trying to be gracious and include me, Monica told her, “You should meet this gentleman—Enoch Anderson works for Barry too,” and the woman beamed at me and said, “I know who you are! You’re the one who never had a hit!” She seemed to think she was bestowing a huge compliment, like “You’re the one who achieved peace in the Middle East!” Barry finds this story extremely funny—I find it somewhat funny!
A song I’m most proud of? For years, it was “Sunday Father”—I really like the simple, bittersweet setting Barry created for it. Also, I seldom had a chance to hear my material performed, so didn’t really witness any reactions to my lyrics…in the case of “Sunday Father,” I did have the opportunity to watch people from time to time as they listened, and they seemed caught up in it and moved, which was gratifying to me.
Today, it would have some competition from the new material in 15 Minutes—I’m very excited about that collection, and go back and forth as to which is my favorite.
Often we assume the songs on an album are all there were. In my research to Barry’s music, I’ve learned many songs don’t make the final cut. Have there been songs of yours left out that disappointed you? Do you think we’ll ever hear them?
Barry tells me that an early song of ours, “Winner Go Down,” was always in contention to get recorded, album after album, but he could never find the right slot for it. I can’t really call that a disappointment, because he has done a bang-up version of it on the 15 Minutes album and that was definitely worth waiting for.
The new album tells a story, and that song fits perfectly into the storyline—it finally found its place! Another song, “Fame, Fame” which was written expressly for the 15 Minutes album, won’t be on it because there really isn’t a place where it’s needed. I hope that it may also spring back to life in some future project.
As not every song makes the album cut, perhaps you’ve written verse and songs that have never been recorded or perhaps recorded and you forgot you wrote them. I saw a great comment you wrote to a fan asking for background of “This Is Fine” which I’d love for you to repeat here.
When Barry first played me the song (which I like very much) I said, “Beautiful, but that’s not one of mine.” He said, oh yes it was, he had the original lyric in my handwriting on a yellowed sheet of the paper I always use…but I really don’t remember any background for it. Was it automatic writing? Was it based on some experience so traumatic I’ve blocked it out? Just joking, but I have to apologize and be honest; I have nothing to share. It must have been part of a sheaf of possibles I gave him thousands of years ago, that he came upon in a file drawer after we’d both forgotten. This is frustrating, because I like the finished result too, and now I’m as curious as you are!
Are there times when the music or presentation varies from how the song was originally written, thereby upsetting you professionally?
No, actually. Sometimes I am not sure of the direction Barry may take a lyric when I give it to him, but I’ve always been excited at the results.
Have your thoughts on writing changed from when you first heard “Can’t Smile Without You” and you “believed that any worthwhile song has to have a minimum of thirty-seven verses (twelve times each, please) and a smattering of dandy metaphors for nuclear annihilation?”
Ohhhh, yes. I was a teenager listening to and brooding over records when the folk-influenced singer-songwriters were all the rage, and their work tended to challenge the usual Tin Pan Alley pop-song formats. I still love a lot of that material I grew up with, but I’m afraid I got a bit self-important for a while about running on and on exploring my deepest feelings. The bottom line is, does it work? You come to realize that as with any art form, you are trying to move someone else, not yourself! I learned to get to the point and say what I meant instead of floating round and round it on an airborne thesaurus.
Barry has shared some of his feelings about and choices in today’s music. What’s yours?
From my modest sampling, I’d say there is just more variety. One genre after another takes precedence, but sooner or later they tend to meld somewhat and influence each other. No artist wants to do the same thing continually, so I think there’s always curiosity about other forms and an interest in trying them on.
Barry has pointed out that the new 15 Minutes album is his first guitar-driven (as opposed to piano-driven) collection, and I think he’s felt very stimulated by embracing a rock sound to that degree…he’s not putting on a disguise, his sound is unmistakable and there are still ballads of the sort that people expect. But I think his fans will also be excited at the other tracks, at the really fresh musical ideas he’s creating. It explains a lot about his longevity as an artist. That he can take a new direction at this point and sweep us all along with it.
Is there ever a tad of resentment, from the ego we all have, that you don’t receive the recognition the artist receives, or is it enough to just have your verse there for the public? Does the financial success of the completed project play into your excitement during your creation process?
Any resentment, like the 37-verse lyrics, would belong to my distant past. The perils of fame and celebrity actually make up the theme of the new album, so that kind of recognition—paparazzi climbing in the window at all hours—isn’t something I long for. Financial security is another story, of course; I would like very much to be able to set aside more time for creative work.
Some years ago, I put my midlife crisis to constructive use and went back to school and earned my graduate degrees…since then, I’ve been teaching English at the community college level. It’s very rewarding in many ways, but someone in my position (I’m an adjunct, not a faculty member) has to work for multiple colleges and the courses are entry-level composition for the most part—that means literally thousands of term papers a year to read and grade. Not always a lot of room left in one’s head for songs!
The thought of having the kind of financial success that would allow me the leisure to explore further creative directions is very sweet indeed.
As you know, music has the ability to set a mood, reveal emotions, or profoundly touch one’s life. “Sandra” is one such piece which, as I shared with you, touched me profoundly at a crossroad in my life, in ways I still struggle to explain. Knowing that, do you feel a responsibility as you create in how it might affect each person? How does music affect your own life?
Music profoundly affects my life and my moods—it’s like self-medicating! I know what will lift my spirits, I know what will focus my attention, I start getting pictures and stories as soon as I start listening…I spent a lot of time in my room just lost in all that, as a kid.
One feels the responsibility to reflect one’s humanity in an honest way…people will respond to that. I think it would be a mistake to be “responsible” in terms of second-guessing others’ reactions too much, as that brings a rather false note of self-consciousness into play. I believe in the ancient Greek concept of catharsis. You feel terribly sad, you listen to a sad song, and suddenly the heaviness lifts—you get through it as a shared experience, rather than plowing yourself deeper and deeper alone. The same goes for exhilarating music, angry music, romantic music—it helps you contact your emotions and deal with them, rather than being overwhelmed by them.
Of course, this could be used irresponsibly, to bypass people’s intellects and stir them up in support of some unworthy cause or something…but I’m not interested in writing about political ideology. I’m interested in human experience.
Going back for a moment to “Sandra,” you recently explained how that song came to be. Would you mind sharing that story here?
I was going to bed late one night very tired and suddenly (in my imagination) there was this woman there with a story she needed to tell. I remember sitting on the side of the bed annoyed, because I really needed to sleep, but I scrawled down the lyric. I named it “Sandra,” because I didn’t know anybody by that name and figured it would save me being accused of writing about someone in my life, but that didn’t work! Every woman I knew (all of whom I thought were having happy lives)—including my sister!—accused me of writing it about her. Whoever “Sandra” was, I guess she just stepped out of the collective unconscious! Interesting how many lyrics AREN’T based on one’s own life, but just sort of float in across the radar.
You mentioned learning who Johnny Mercer was back “when you were impossibly young.” Are there been other lyricists who have influenced your work?
I grew up in a small mining town in northern Canada in an area that didn’t have television reception at the time, so there wasn’t much pop culture influence. As a little kid, I discovered a pile of old ‘78 records of my grandfather’s in a cupboard and played them over and over, soaking up turn-of-the-century (that other century) ballads and vaudeville routines. On my parents’ bookshelves, I found a complete collection of librettos of the Savoy Operas (Gilbert and Sullivan) and read them almost cover-to-cover. Very complex rhythm and rhyme patterns. About the time I was beginning high school, my mother and grandmother took me on a trip to New York City and I saw Broadway shows and started immersing myself in musical theatre, loving the idea of songs being used to move a story along.
Of course, as a teenager, I was finally swept up in the popular music of the day, but I brought along quite a variety of influences—the blunt honesty of Bessie Smith blues, the glittering wit of Lorenz Hart, Noel Coward…Johnny Mercer, of course, but I didn’t know his name at the time! I was lucky to be born late into my family—my parents and grandparents were older than those of my friends, and the accumulated records and songbooks lying around the house were like a crash course in an entire century of popular music. One of my grandfathers was born in 1858! That’s quite some leap between generations! More contemporary influences would be Joni Mitchell, Paul Simon, Laura Nyro…it just goes on. I could make lists for a month. As soon as I send this to you, I’ll be kicking myself because of someone I’ve forgotten.
In addition to Here at the Mayflower, you’ve been responsible for an impressive list of Barry Manilow’s fabulous songs. Sadly, most are underappreciated by the media and are only known to his fans. “Break Down the Door/Who’s Been Sleeping in My Bed” and “I Want to be Somebody’s Baby” (Barry still knocks ‘em dead with these two), “Bobby Lee,” “Dirt Cheap,” “Joey,” “Linda Song,” “Nice Boy Like Me,” “She’s a Star,” “Sunday Father,” “This is Fine,” “The Walking Wounded,” and my two personal favorites, “You’re Leaving Too Soon” (another lyric I found profound in leaving my marriage) and the touching and absolutely magnificent “Forever and a Day!”
Thank you for that list—you’ve really done your homework!
You’re welcome, the research was great fun and informative. Some of these songs have an edgy, touching bittersweet feel of loss (“You’re Leaving Too Soon”) while others are almost angry (“I Want to Be Somebody’s Baby”). Do these lyrics mirror your personality or feelings you’ve experienced, or do they come from a thought or concept—as you shared pertaining to “Sandra” and “Sunday Father”—that just evolve more by way of fiction or a concept that’s not based on one person or experience in your own life?
Both sources of inspiration—a personal experience, or a concept seized from a face in a crowd or a news headline—have applied at different times. And, to tell the truth, sometimes it’s difficult to tell the difference. As you’ve probably experienced yourself as a writer, often when one takes on an imagined situation and begins to make a story of it, it becomes like one’s own. I am not a divorced father but, while I was putting “Sunday Father” together, I felt I was going through the frustration and concern a man might feel seeing his child only once a week. It’s like—you turn on a radio and music is playing in a studio somewhere else, maybe in another city, but you tune in that station and suddenly the radio is playing. “I Am a Radio” (Joni Mitchell lyric)—it’s like channeling the experiences and suddenly it’s like one’s own experience one is writing about.
I was telling an acquaintance about the idea behind the 15 Minutes album, the trajectory of quick fame and huge celebrity that we see so often in the popular media, followed by the crash-and-burn…and he asked rather sardonically what I (a decidedly non-famous person) could possibly know about that—and I didn’t have an answer that satisfied him. But it’s as though it’s out there, you extend your antennae and you tune it in, and you begin to play with it and experience it. Probably even in the cases when a completely personal incident was the basis for an idea, by the time the writing was finished, I very likely had imagined other people’s versions, augmented it, so I was working with the idea of it as something shared.
Manilow Fans have wondered if “She’s a Star” was based, at least in part, on Barry’s own career, but presented in sharing a female’s rise to stardom. Can you elaborate if there’s any truth to this? Is it just based on performers in general?
It seems that often it has been the female celebrities who have caught the public’s imagination, but the song wasn’t directed at anyone in particular. It’s about losing touch with the reality of one’s own life, trading that for communion with “the lonely crowd”—of course that fits beautifully into the 15 Minutes theme, and Barry has done a really dynamic male version of the song for the CD—the only piece in the collection that he has recorded previously.
I find, in writing fiction, the characters stay with me, become real in my life—I asked my son to check with his creative writing professor to see if this was normal and thank heavens he said it is. Do your lyrics stay with you? Does the storyline of a song ever haunt you in its reality? Along that line, do you find yourself coming up with ideas for lyrics in everything you experience?
I’m glad too that we have the professor’s stamp of approval! My responses a little bit up the page would apply to this question too…the idea of “tuning in” a situation or emotion and then feeling it as one’s own. Yes, characters and storyline become very real and linger around. It was like that with the “Sandra” apparition—that imaginary woman simply wasn’t going to go away until I wrote the lyric!
I am not constantly coming up with lyric ideas…I think I have some resistance to that, because once it starts, it’s difficult to switch it off and too often one just doesn’t have the time to develop the ideas. I find the Muse is mischievous that way—good ideas like to visit when there’s hardly a chance you can do anything with them, so I try to use that to my advantage and trick them.
We needed another song for 15 Minutes and I was vacant of ideas and trying not to make things worse by worrying…I had a late night class to teach and on my way home stopped at Ralph’s Supermarket for some necessaries. Suddenly, there in the middle of the supermarket at about 11:30pm, the song sprang into my head almost fully formed! I had nothing to write with and was in a panic—I went through the checkout line muttering it over and over to myself like a crazy person, hoping I could get home fast enough to capture it on paper. If I had not been aware of needing an idea, there’s a danger I might just have said, “Oh go away, leave me alone,” and continued shopping. As it is, the song (it’s called “Train Wreck”) is now one of my favorites on the album.
*Here at the Mayflower* and *15 Minutes* are based on Barry Manilow’s specific concepts, not unlike an opera. In working on a concept with several collaborators, does the music or lyric come first? How does the process unfold to create a cohesive line that ultimately becomes the the story set to music?
In Barry’s and my collaboration, the lyrics have almost always come first. We have almost never worked in the same room (seldom in the same city!)—I type the lyrics out like a poem, complete with title, and once upon a time I would mail them to him—now of course it’s email, which is so much better. On a few occasions, Barry has sent me a melody and I’ve set words to the existing music…that’s very interesting, because it will take me in a direction I might not otherwise have found. “Border Train” (from the Mayflower album) was one of those, with that haunting yearning melody of his that suddenly put me on a train whipping across the country in the middle of the night. Two other examples of the rare music-first approach are “Forever and a Day” and the brand new “Everything’s Gonna Be All Right.”
For 15 Minutes, the storyline concept was entirely Barry’s (of course the idea seized my imagination right away); he would say, “We’ll need a song where it finally hits him that he’s got success in his grip…” or “At this point there has to be a song where he’s starting to go over the edge, fall apart…” and I’d run off into my burrow and whittle away until I had something. One idea was my contribution—I got the concept of a stalker, an unbalanced fan who becomes a danger (something many celebrities unfortunately have to deal with), and he liked that and the song was incorporated into the story.
For Mayflower, it wasn’t (at least in my part of the experience—can’t speak for the other lyricists) a matter of “several collaborators” operating as an ensemble…we worked separately and Barry coordinated the results into an overall concept, a story. I remember that he told me about the initial concept, that big apartment in Brooklyn where he spent his childhood, so I wrote the title lyric (“So many windows, so many walls”), but I’m not aware of many things that were done to order for that project. I think for much of it he took existing material and wove it into a story. The other lyricists might have experienced it differently.
Who makes the final decision as to a song’s title?
Most of the time I’ve come up with the title because it’s part and parcel of the completed lyric. That’s not always true, though.. with “Forever and a Day” the title was Barry’s, he already had the melody, and he had a definite idea of what the lyric should say. “Everything’s Gonna Be All Right” was also his title, as well as some of the lines. At the moment, I can’t think of other exceptions.
Since Barry announced working on an album of original music—his first in nine years—we’re all been chomping at the bit waiting for what will undoubtedly be a phenomenal piece of work! (Personally, I think all of Barry’s music is original to a degree, including the covers, as he adds his own touch of magic, making every song his own.) The unique concept of 15 Minutes based on the rise, fall, and rise again in the world of fame, is fascinating. Barry’s thought-provoking comment, “I’ve always said that I think success is more difficult to handle than failure,” is poignant.
I’m sure you, Barry, and all concerned have had enough questions as to the release date. My feeling is when it’s ready, we’ll know—no point in causing stress by pushing so I won’t ask.
No use, because I just don’t know! You can imagine that I’m as eager as everyone else.
However, as for the creation process, Barry said of you, “I think he’s outdone himself on this project.” Has 15 minutes been a greater challenge for you?
A challenge, but a wonderful one. I really love writing in context of a character and a situation, and allowing that character to evolve over several songs. This was right up the alley of what I most want to do (what I was trying to do with the musical shows I wrote with John Gluck).
Barry said that “this CD is the first one I’ve ever done that is guitar driven (as opposed to piano driven).” As such this music is not what we’re used to Barry writing and performing. Does that lead you to write lyrics we’re not used to him delivering?
The big difference, I think, is the ongoing story aspect…it is Barry singing in context of a character who changes. I would never ordinarily have written a song for Barry in which his thoughts are starting to wander and fragment, because of stress and disconnection from the people around him—the fact that we had a character to whom this was happening certainly led me in new directions.
What I think is most compelling (and I hope people pick up on this) is the depth of Barry’s performance. If you hear the songs separately, they are all beautifully and feelingly done…but when you hear them in sequence, you are really struck by Barry’s portrayal of the character as the story develops…you really hear him go through the changes from young and bursting with enthusiasm, to weary and jaded, to picking himself up again, determined to salvage his life…it’s remarkable. I didn’t appreciate it until I finally heard all the songs in order and realized what a stunning acting job it is…I don’t know of another album of his (or of any pop artist) which has done this. We’ve been very lucky in having the brilliant Michael Lloyd as producer—right from the start, Michael grasped exactly what this album needed to be, the story it was telling, and he has done a tremendous job bringing it to life.
Did your lyrics evolve from a very specific vision of events in the chapters of this person’s life, or did you base it all on just the open ended concept of the story?
It was definitely in terms of chapters: the ongoing stages in the cycle of celebrity.
Do you think you’ll collaborate on more music of this style? Does that weigh on the success of the album?
Of course it weighs on the success of the album but oh, I hope so! The combination of music and a compelling story—music reaches directly into people’s hearts and guts, and the story engages their intellects. It’s really my boyish dream to put my energies into working with projects of this sort on an ongoing basis; it has been a wonderful creative experience.
In working with a musical genius like Barry Manilow, who also has written some of his own amazing lyrics, does it become a battle of genius in the creation process? Do you agree to disagree from the start?
This is going to sound like a carefully tailored, politically correct answer, but the honest truth is I can’t remember a single time we have locked horns over anything. The creative process with Barry has not ever been a battle…perhaps the fact that we work separately is a factor there, but we seem to have similar visions and sensibilities…I learned very early that if I sent off a lyric with one line I wasn’t comfortable with, Barry would spot that line intuitively and ask for a rewrite, and it would come as a relief to me! We are both articulate and can express what we envision, we have mutual respect and affection and a shared sense of humor, and we’re both excited by the creative process—this may sound like phony show-biz diplomacy, but I can’t imagine a more harmonious collaboration.
Enoch, your response does not sound phony at all. It embodies a description of the person I believe Barry is. Barry Manilow is one of the kindest, sweetest, genuinely nice people I’ve ever had the honor of meeting. It’s hard to explain his persona, the goodness that naturally exudes from him, as real, and yet it is. He truly is one in a billion. The question has to be asked (and you might choose not to answer): is Barry Manilow fun to work with? We’ve heard he’s the consummate perfectionist in bringing the best within his power to whatever he’s working on. Are you able to mix business with pleasure or is he so consumed by his innate passion for the music that it remains all business, which could prove stressful to those collaborating with him?
In my experience, the old cliche of a perfectionist being “someone who takes pains and gives them to everyone else” does not apply to Barry. Of course he has a very specific vision and is determined to realize it, but he’s entirely supportive and considerate to his coworkers. Actually, I think he gets people’s best efforts because of the way he treats them. Doing business in that kind of atmosphere is a pleasure, and there’s a very ready sense of humor in play as well—when we were discussing the 15 Minutes project and the stages the hero would go through as he navigates the path of celebrity, sometimes Barry would refer to stages of his career when he felt his own ego had been going out of control…I just have to say I never witnessed that in him. It has always intrigued me that he can command a stage entirely but afterwards, with the audience on their feet cheering, he is secure enough not to need to command the dressing room. I remember the first time I saw him (1972, Doug Weston’s Troubadour Club in Hollywood), it was with a sense of recognition, as though I already knew him very well, that we’d been acquainted forever. It was like, “Oh, it’s you. Hi—!” He has said that on meeting me he had the same feeling. And that persona he projects, that’s the real man. There’s no Jekyll and Hyde mechanism going on.
You mentioned you’ve been teaching. Would you care to share what else you’ve personally been involved with in your life and career, aside from music and your work with Barry?
For a long time, it seemed as though my songwriting career had been an interesting part of my life that never quite worked out and now belonged to the past. As we said, I had not had hit songs, Barry’s recording career seemed to be moving away from original material, and I did many other things to support myself. I could base a comedy routine on all the jobs I’ve had.
I had always thought that if I made a lot of money, one of the things I would want to do would be to get an education—so I finally decided to do that anyway! I started with night school, then community college, and found I was doing well—a 4.0 GPA—and was very stimulated by the experience of learning. I got into the quite exclusive Communication Studies major at UCLA (then considered a great degree for creative types with an eye on the media) and graduated summa cum laude. I then earned my M.A. and Ph.D. in English from Claremont Graduate University.
All of this was like a breath of fresh air and turned my life around. Teaching had not been a goal, but it was what the degrees immediately qualified me for, and I had personal concerns: my mother was becoming older and needing assistance, my brother and sister also had problems, and I began dividing my time between L.A. and the family home in Canada. The schedule of an adjunct professor was flexible in ways that many jobs aren’t. So I began teaching for a living, but it always felt like a transitional phase.
I completed my Ph.D. dissertation, my splendid mother passed away at the fine age of 100 and my brother and sister died almost within the same year…I was suddenly all that remained of the family I had grown up with and at that point moved into teaching year-round while I gave myself time to adjust to the changes. Teaching English in Southern California has special rewards—there is such diversity, such a large immigrant population, that one senses how challenging it is for some students to become proficient at the language. I’ve felt enriched by the chance to make myself useful this way but, as I said, it felt transitional and I hoped there would still be opportunities to clear my head and return to creative work. Then, out of the blue, Barry called me with the 15 Minutes project!
Your personal journey is fascinating. Facing obstacles and challenges, you’ve proved it’s never too late to reach for and successfully attain new goals. Your last sentence reiterates a motto I live by for my own peace—all things happen as they should when it’s meant to be. Your heart and mind were ready to revisit creativity and so, too, the time was right for Barry to call upon you.
I heard ‘Forever and a Day’ live at my first concert in Philadelphia just over three years ago when the music of Manilow entered my life. In catching up on his life and career I was touched by the deep love and respect he holds for his fans and the sincere humility that they’re still with him. Witnessing the fans love, seeing Barry’s genuine gratitude and reciprocation as he sang this song was very emotional for me. Hearing it at the Hollywood Bowl got me again. The presentation of your profound lyrics that fit Barry’s career so well, is beyond kudos worthy to you!
Thank you so much, feedback from people who have listened to the songs is very interesting and valuable to me and not something I have had much of. I haven’t often had the chance to see the songs performed for an audience, so I haven’t had much sense of what the response might be. It really means a lot to realize that people have been listening to and engaging with the songs all along!
Thank you again Enoch, this has been such a pleasure. Much luck and success in all your endeavors. I wish you, Barry, and all involved in the creation of 15 Minutes the tremendous accolades it will richly deserve as it takes the world by storm. And for you, I wish that number 1 hit so long over due!