Ohhhhh Mandy

In 1975 a virtually unknown singer/songwriter/composer from the Bronyx burst on to the music scene. His first number one hit was played over and over again, by a sixteen year old girl from the country, on a record player so large it was a piece of furniture itself. She and her younger sisters would dance around the living room to the smooth sound of the artist's voice. That sixteen year old swore if she ever had a daughter, she would be named after that very song. Five years later I made my grand entrance into the world and was given the name Mandy. Not Amanda (like so many other baby girls born in the late 70's/early 80's), just Mandy. Had it not been for a Jewish man from New York, I'd now be known as Heather or Heidi or some equally autrocious name (no offense to any Heather's or Heidi's out there) that when combined with my last name would be an alliterative nightmare.



I've grown up listening to Barry Manilow's music, I am sure I absorbed it in utero and I own almost his entire collection (some of it in the form of vintage vinyl that belonged to my mom as a teenager). My grandmother has always thought concerts are a frivolous waste of money so my mom and I experienced our first Manilow concert together when I was probably 12 or 13 years old. Over the years, its been our thing to go see his show any time its with in a few hours of home. The shows have ranged from big Vegas show style productions; shows with a full orchestra elevated on risers on stage; to shows with just him, a piano, and a small band backing him up. I've heard him sing his hits, covers, and new pieces that have never been released on an album. I've never left a concert without feeling completely fulfilled in a way that only seeing live music can fulfill you. While Barry Manilow is really an amazing composer, arranger, and singer, at his core he is an entertainer.

These days Barry Manilow has a long running show in Las Vegas and rarely tours. Occasionally when he as a few week break from the Vegas act, he takes the show on the road for one night arena shows. On Monday, his Ultimate Manilow show came to Pittsburgh's Mellon Arena. My mom and I have had tickets for months, purchasing them the day the became available. The show was as always fantastic. I lost my voice singing along too loudly to classics such as "Copacabana" and "I Write the Songs." I soulfully clutched my glowstick as a microphone while singing "Ships in the Night." When the first few bars of "Mandy" wafted through the arena, my mom leaned over and whispered "this is your song!" Hearing his music, the way he plays and interprets it never gets old. From the first strains of the overture to the final note of the last encore (and there are usually many) Manilow's shows are always an incredible experience.

One of the most amazing things about his show isn't anything to do with the show itself but rather the audience. Women who range in age from somewhere in their 80's to little kids. At the show on Monday I saw generations of women from the same family. Groups of women around the same age all friends, perhaps sisters. A group of college aged women wearing homemade shirts that spelled out MANILOW. Sure there were a handfull of men too. But all around us my mom and I were surrounded by mothers and daughters who like ourselves have seen multiple shows, have many fond memories, know all the words to just about all of his songs, and yet still keep coming back for more. I love the fact that my mom and I both have a deep admiration for this man and his music. It really is something she's passed on to me, not just in the form of my name.


* Yes, those glowsticks were from the show on Monday night.

** No the FANILOW license plate is not mine, but you bet I came home and looked it up online to see if it was available in OH. Its not.

*** I may or may not have ordered a couple of the Manilow license plate holders. Or four so my mom could have a set too.

**** Don't judge me, after all the man did give me my name.