Spotlight Album Review: Eleri Ward "A Perfect Little Death"

As I’ve been processing the death of Stephen Sondheim, there is so much of his music at my disposal to appreciate, from soundtrack albums such as Sweeney Todd and Sunday in the Park with George to revues like Sondheim on Sondheim to tribute albums by the likes of Judy Collins, Melissa Errico and Cyrille Aimee. But the one I’m drawn to the most is A Perfect Little Death by Eleri Ward on Ghostlight Records, which suits the bittersweet moment.

A musical theatre major at Boston Conservatory at Berklee, Eleri began recording solo Sondheim songs in her New York apartment on YouTube a couple of years ago. She’s described her music as “indie folk Sondheim,” in the style of Sufjan Stevens. Accompanying herself on acoustic guitar, she delivers the songs in a pure soprano, sometimes overdubbing the vocals. She’s said the balance of darkness and light in Sondheim’s music speaks to her. Sondheim has always insisted that he writes for the characters in his shows, yet somehow they become universal. “What else,” she asks, “do these songs reveal when they are stripped down to their core?” Moving from her apartment to the recording studio for the album, she’s lost none of the intimacy of those videos, and the results are breathtaking.

Three of the songs are from Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street, the 1979 Sondheim musical that some have called “Grand Guignol.” One is “Joanna (Reprise)” about the beautiful singer who is an obsession of both Sweeney and the young sailor Antony. Another is “Pretty Women” in which Sweeney addresses the evil Judge Turpin. The third is “The Ballad of Sweeney Todd,” the opening number of the show, sung by the ensemble, who describe Sweeney serving a “dark and vengeful god.” Three very different contexts, but all sung beautifully and inimitably by Eleri.

The title track comes from A Little Night Music, where the character Carlotta sings “Every Day a Little Death” about her bitter marriage to Carl-Magus. Also from A Little Night Music is “Send In the Clowns,” the one commercial hit Sondheim had, by way of Frank Sinatra and Judy Collins (whose performance won a Grammy in 1976 for Song of the Year). It expresses the regret and anger that the middle-aged actress playing Desiree has over her husband’s love for a much younger woman. Regret also runs through two songs from Follies, “Losing My Mind” and “In Buddy’s Eyes,” where Sally rues both the husband she never married and the one she actually did. Eleri sings these songs about much older women and makes them totally credible.

Then there’s Fosca’s desperation in Passion: “Loving is not a choice, it’s who I am…I would die for you.” Eleri’s treatment is both intense and understated. In a year when the pandemic dominated our lives, the subject of death has a special resonance, and so there’s premium on being alive. Eleri chooses the little known song, “Take Me to the World” (from the 1966 TV musical Evening Primrose) where the character sings, “Take me to a world where I can be alive.” That’s even more pronounced in Company when the main character has an intervention with his friends on the subject of marriage: “Give me support for being alive…alone is alone, not alive.”

I mustn’t overlook “Children Will Listen,” from Into the Woods. In Eleri’s hands the witch’s melody is enhanced by her overdubbing “ah’s” as the chorus. My favorite Sondheim score is Sunday in the Park with George, and Eleri doesn’t disappoint, with two highlights: “Finishing the Hat,” which signals George’s (and, we assume, Sondheim’s artistic  imperative) and “Sunday,” which many consider the finest first act finale of the musical theater. Onstage George begins the song with a spoken invocation (“Order, Design, Tension, Balance, Harmony”), then the ensemble builds to an exquisite choral climax. Somehow Eleri manages to capture the magic of that moment and convey the meaning of George’s words with her voice and an acoustic guitar alone.  She has made us reimagine Sondheim’s work with superb clarity. I have no idea whether he heard her work, but I’m sure he would approve. A Perfect Little Death, coming in the wake of the pandemic and Sondheim’s passing, is a life-affirming gift.