On top of the world

Barry Manilow's recordings possess a spot in the popular consciousness.

Like clockwork, the Mercedes arrived and parked at the foot of a runway in the small, posh airport that serves Palm Springs, California, this air-conditioned resort city. The famous driver, with no luggage, climbed aboard a sleek little jet. Not 10 minutes later, the plane whisked past scrub and sagebrush and up through desert thermals.

And just like that, Barry Manilow was on his way to work.

His home is a five-minute drive from the airport so, even though he plays five shows a week at the Las Vegas Hilton, he sleeps in his own bed. "I live in Palm Springs," he explained of the hilltop house where he lives alone. "There's just no quiet in Vegas."

A short time later, the plane banked and a sharp curtain of sunlight fell across the 62-year-old songwriter's distinctive profile, the same profile that still turns him sullen at the thought of photo shoots despite three decades of fame. Squinting, he surveyed the rugged terrain below. "It's beautiful in the light, isn't it?" he asked. Maybe we all appreciate moments in the sun more as we get older; in February, The Greatest Songs of the Fifties, Manilow's new album (the 54th of his career), debuted at No. 1 on the US pop charts, a feat he had never accomplished, not even in the days of Mandy, Copacabana (At the Copa), or all the other 1970s hits that made him a star.

Manilow's recordings possess a spot in the popular consciousness comparable to the paintings of Thomas Kinkade: They are undeniably popular, highly polished in their craft and possessing of a trademark twinkle. That twinkle, to true believers, makes the songs magical but it makes everyone else pretty much giggle or groan.

When he catapulted onto the charts in 1974 with the melodramatic hit Mandy, Manilow was lanky and almost girlish with his doe eyes and blond tresses, a Shaun Cassidy lookalike behind a baby grand. His handlers fibbed about his age (he was 32, not 29), hoping to enhance his affinity with the Tiger Beat crowd, and Manilow became a king of the slow-skate song. The hits dried up in the early 1980s and Manilow shifted, through age and necessity, to a stage presence more like Liza Minnelli - head back, chin aimed at the spotlight and belting out songs of show-stopping vindication typified by I Made It Through the Rain. In one-on-one conversation, Manilow is far less melodramatic.

"I'm good, not great," he said as the plane streaked towards the state line. "I know the difference. Sinatra is great. Judy [Garland] is great. Tony Bennett is great. I'm pretty good. But you can go far on pretty good if you work hard and pay attention."

The singer is well aware of the perception of him, which ranks somewhere between Wayne Newton and Riverdance for cool-factor rating. "Ask the general guy out in the public about me, he doesn't get it and the critics, well, they've never gotten it," Manilow said.

Dense crescendo

A few hours before call time at the Hilton, Manilow meandered to the middle of the hotel's theatre, crossed his arms and made a face. On stage, his band and singers were hammering away at the dense crescendo of a medley of songs from Manilow's album Here at the Mayflower. The swirl of music is intended to create the energy of a street party, but at that moment it sounded more like a riot of conflicting musical ideas.

A New York girl named Edna Manilow married Harold Pincus, who was of Irish lineage, but they divorced not long after the birth of their son, Barry, who would legally take his mother's name in his teen years. She and her ex-husband's parents raised the boy and eked out a living in a neighbourhood that Manilow has described as streets of laundry lines. The boy loved music and took up the accordion. His grandfather took a profound interest in the youngster's budding musicality.

During his shows at the Hilton, Manilow weaves this family lore into the act by telling how his grandfather spent his hard-earned quarters dropping them into a novelty recording booth and coaxing the child to sing. Manilow even pauses during the show, and some of those early recordings are piped in for the crowd. There's an expected sentimental rush among the audience, which skews toward the senior citizen set and is dominated by women.

Many have been seeing him for years; the "Fanilows", as his most devout followers call themselves, are sort of like Deadheads but with a penchant for sequins and late-model Cadillac sedans. Manilow said the shows at the Hilton have been the hardest work he's had in decades. The crowd is watered down by high rollers, camp guests and tourists who, unlike the Fanilows, aren't screaming from the first notes.

If there is a song that defines Manilow it's probably I Write the Songs with its over-the-top opening lines: "I've been alive forever/And I wrote the very first song/I put the words and the melodies together/I am music/And I write the songs."

It's a funny twist that Manilow didn't actually write I Write the Songs, but its sweeping music and soft-focus earnestness make it an anthem for the singer and his fans, who sing along at the Hilton with moist eyes. Fanilows love their idol's unabashed sentimentalism, and plenty of songs have a melancholy theme. His songs make the young girls cry, as the song goes, but he said he gets through life without too many tears.

Manilow's Greatest Hits

Barry Manilow had a successful career as a jingle writer and became a star with a run of 1970s hits. The Greatest Songs of the Fifties is the first Manilow collection to hit No. 1 on the album chart since Barry Manilow Live in 1977 and the only one to debut in the top spot. The singer has recorded 17 singles that broke the Top 20 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, but none have charted since 1988. The hits and peak position:

- 1974: Mandy (1)

- 1975: It's a Miracle (12)
Could It Be Magic (6)
I Write the Songs (1)

- 1976: Tryin' to Get the Feeling Again (10)
Weekend in New England (10)

- 1977: Looks Like We Made It (1)

- 1978: Can't Smile Without You (3)
Even Now (19)
Copacabana (At the Copa) (8)
Ready to Take a Chance Again (11)

- 1979: Somewhere in the Night (9)
Ships (9)
When I Wanted You (20)

- 1980: I Made It Through the Rain (10)

- 1981: The Old Songs (15)

- 1983: Read ? Em and Weep (18)