Clare Johnston
He could have said he had married his teddy bear and I wouldn’t care
RECENT events present me with the ideal excuse to talk about one of my favourite subjects – Barry Manilow.
More specifically, it’s a chance to talk about my favourite song, Mandy.
When Barry came out last week at the age of 73, the only surprise was that he thought we didn’t already know.
That he really believed revealing he was gay would disappoint his fans is so sad.
He’s spent 40 years hiding his love for his long-term partner Garry, only to discover that we don’t mind what or who he is – it’s the voice, Barry, the voice.
Just the mere mention of his name makes me break out into Mandy.
I start to sing those opening lines and I’m cut down within seconds by the collective voices of my husband and sons shouting, “No”. I have sung it too many times, I fear. But if I had only one song that I could listen to for the rest of my life it would be Mandy. It has everything. Everything. And did you know Barry’s version was a cover of a song by Scott English which was originally called Brandy? Did you? There’s nothing I can’t tell you about this song.
When I think about the brilliance of those first lyrics written about the helpless craving for alcohol – “Oh Brandy, well you kissed me and stopped me from shaking. And I need you today, oh Brandy,” – it only makes me love it more. And nobody can sing it like Barry. Not even five lads from Ireland with their fancy harmonies and ear monitors. So why would he think his sexuality would put us off listening to his music and going to watch him in concert?
He could have said he’d married his teddy bear and I wouldn’t have cared. Just as long as he keeps singing. In a magazine interview, he revealed: “I thought I would be disappointing [my fans] if they knew I was gay. So I never did anything. “When they found out that Garry and I were together, they were so happy.” Just imagine if he’d left it too late and his partner had to privately mourn the loss of a soul-mate with the public only thinking they worked together. Perhaps that’s what motivated him to finally tell the truth. But that it has taken him until his 70s to reach the point where he could be honest is one of the most surprising things. My experience is that most people reach their 40s and can no longer be bothered putting on an act and, ironically, become more empowered as a result. To live a life tied up in fear of what others think is no life at all.