Alexa..."Write Me A Musical"

Alexa…”Write me a musical”

By

Gary Koppel

As they say, “There’s no business, like show business”, and I couldn’t agree more. Despite my best efforts to write and produce a musical, so far, there’s no business. “Write what you know”, they tell me. So, here’s what I know. I am an elderly single father trying to raise an alcoholic/drug addicted daughter. Now, I know what you’re thinking: funny set-up, where’s it going? As they also say, (THEY say so many things), desperate times call for desperate measures. I needed help.

Like it or not, AI, Artificial Intelligence is here. I thought I’d give it a shot. I had nothing to lose. Actually, I had nothing at all. And unlike Porgy or Bess, I forget which one, Nothin’ ain’t plenty for me. And while AI may be helpful for writing college essays I wanted to see if it could actually compose songs for an original musical. So, I uploaded the all of the song books from Broadway’s greatest shows along with all of the its greatest composers and lyricists into my computer with the prompt, “Write a musical about old fathers and wayward daughters, acceptance and resignation, and all of the curses and blessings of parenting in the 21st century.

Here are the results.

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Re-Hab

Or

I’m Miz

The Songs:

Oh! Glaucoma!

Oy vhat a miserable morning,

Oy, vhat a miserable day,

I’ve got a miserable feeling

All I can say is Oy vey…ey.

Things That I Hate!

Worried, and anxious,

It’s three in the morning,

My kid stumbles in now

Without any warning

My life is in shambles

Is this just my fate?

These are a few of the things that I hate.

Things might blow over

I’ll give it a while

“All kids go through this”,

They call that ‘denial’

I heard a slogan that tells me to WAIT!

These are a few of the things that I hate.

She keeps drinking

I keep thinking

Is it really bad?

My kid’s not a ‘quitter’

My god, I’m so bitter

And that’s why I feel…so mad.

Doctors and lawyers

And Rehab and jail

Filling prescriptions and posting her bail

Advice from so many

Who don’t hesitate

These are a few of the things that I hate.

Expectations

Confrontations

Something’s always wrong

I simply remember the things that I hate

And then I can sing…this song.

I Can’t Say No

I’m just a dad who can’t say ‘no’

I’m in a terrible mess

I’ve always heard “to just let go”

But I still wanna say ‘yes’

When my daughter says “I need some dough”

I think I know what I’m supposed to do

But when she shares her tales of woe

I suddenly no longer have a clue

I’m just a dad who needs to know

That things will all be all right

Don’t wanna have a big fight

Whether I’m wrong or I am right

I can’t say ‘no’!

Well, I Remember It!!

(A father and daughter reminisce)

You were on drugs

No, I was not

I found a pipe

A little pot

Ah yes, I remember it well

That DUI

It was a trap

And driving school

I beat the rap

Ah yes, I remember it well

You were not yourself,

We had begun to fight

We just ‘disagreed’

You may…be right.

I’m still amazed

To know that you

Remember still

The way you do

Ah yes, I remember it well

How often I think of my daughter

And all that we both have been through

And somehow I hopefully wonder

If she might be wondering too.

And Betty Ford

That desert spa

Your last ‘resort’

Was so bourgeois

Ah yes, I remember it well

I’d lost control

You never had

I know my role

You’re still my dad

Ah yes, I remember it well

It’s been quite some ride…

That’s not over yet

I’ll be by your side…

I won’t…forget

That little girl, you used to be…

I’m still that girl, just look and see…

Both: Ah yes, I remember it well.

Zaide Is My Gramp

Daughter: “Hey Dad…Surprise! You’re about to be a grandfather!”

Dad: “What?” “Are you serious?”

Daughter: “So, What do you want to be called?”

Dad: “I don’t know. Grandpa?…Opa? How about Faux Pas?”

Daughter: “What about Zaide?”

(Song)

He gets too hungry for dinner at four

Won’t use his CPAP, says he doesn’t snore

He has no time for the people that bore

That’s why my Zaide is my gramp

He says he’s dizzy, his head spins and whirls

I love to listen to his wisdom-filled pearls

He loves to gossip with all of the girls

That’s why my Zaide is my gramp

When he was young…he…was debonair,

Now on Medicare, No joke, he’s ‘woke’ “

Loves to go walking; his legs always cramp

That’s why my Zaide is my gramp

I’ve Grown Accustomed To My Face

I’ve grown accustomed to My face

It always makes My day begin

I’ve grown accustomed to my skin

My hair that’s getting thin

My smiles, my frowns

My ups and downs,

Are second nature to me now

I think that I still look the same

But while looking in the mirror, maybe trying to forget

Surely I’m still youthful, forever young, I think

And Yet

I guess it’s been a while

That I’ve been in denial

Accustomed to my face.

The Sound of Musings

Dough, oh dear, my kid needs dough

Pay another of her debts

Me, a name I call myself

Filled with anger and regrets

So, ambivalent and torn

Oy, I’m feeling so forlorn

Yet, I’m glad that she was born

Which just brings me back to…Oh No, more dough!!!

(Repeat…indefinitely)

Oh well. That’s that. I guess it’s back to the drawing board (or any other cliché I can think of). So, to Sondheim, and Rogers, and Hart, and Hammerstein, and the Gershwins, et al, No need to worry. You can rest in peace; because, “Anything you can do, AI can’t do better! It can’t do anything better than you! ” So, go ‘head…Send in the Clones.

Wait! I’ve just come up with a great idea for rap-filled musical…A political thriller about a mad delusional sociopath wannabe dictator who is incapable of telling the truth. It’s called…The Lyin’ King or Beatin’ the Rap!!!

Disclaimer: No Artificial Intelligence was used in the creation of this document. (Actually, Full disclosure: Almost no intelligence was used in the creation of this document!)