Off the Charts: Burt Bacharach

What the world needs now is Burt, sweet Burt

By Newt Briggs

To put it simply, Burt Bacharach and his longtime songwriting accomplice Hal David are as essential to American lovemaking as bench seats, screw-top wine and edible massage oils. After all, what tunesmiths have penned more hit songs with "Love" in the title than this tireless duo? Certainly, Barry White, Luther Vandross and the rest of the soul set have done their fair share to keep people knocking boots, but only Bacharach and David had the wherewithal to craft make-out anthems like "The Look of Love," "Walk on By" and the ubiquitous "What the World Needs Now is Love." Top these off with a generous sprinkle of "Only Love Can Break a Heart" and a swirl of "(There's) Always Something There to Remind Me," and you've got enough romantic fodder to keep you knee-deep in one-night stands well into the next decade.

Yet in recent years, Bacharach has earned a new status as a comic prop in Austin Powers and a sounding board on one of Elvis Costello's countless comeback albums. Despite the fact that Bacharach rarely performed his own songs, this exposure has thrust him into the pop-cultural spotlight as an icon of swinging `60s cool--an association that has had dubious consequences. Certainly Bacharach, who was once married to renowned Hollywood libertine Angie Dickinson, is worthy of the praise, but as a purely practical matter, isn't it a bit cruel to make a 76-year-old man in a tuxedo stand at a piano with a martini when all he wants to do is eat some graham crackers and take a nap? Instead of lauding him as the king of lava lamps and shag carpet, we should remember him as the Frank Lloyd Wright of the love ballad--the man whose songs helped save the Carpenters, Dionne Warwick and perhaps even the world.

The Carpenters: If not for Bacharach, the Carpeneters might have been just another run-of-the-mill brother-sister duo with severe drug-dependency and eating-disorder issues. Instead, Bacharach turned them into stars with severe drug-dependency and eating-disorder issues. The pair's first album, Ticket to Ride, sounded like an overproduced blend of Carly Simon and the Chipmunks, but on the strength of Bacharach's title track, their sophomore effort, Close to You, rocketed to the top of the charts and did not tumble until the Carpenters decided to cover both "Please Mister Postman" and "Desperado" on a single album.

Dionne Warwick: It doesn't take the Psychic Friends to predict where Warwick would have been if not for the compositional savvy of Bacharach. All of Warwick's Top 40 singles from 1962 to1968--including "Do You Know the Way to San Jose?" and "Theme From Valley of the Dolls"--were orchestrated by Bacharch and David. Warwick split with the pair acrimoniously in the early `70s after the failure of their ill-fated movie-musical, Lost Horizon, but she came crawling back when her career flatlined in the mid-`80s. Always the gentleman, Bacharach broke her off a run of hits; and then, with a wink and a smile, he shuffled her off to 900-number land.

The world: A more cynical music historian might argue that the Bacharach's rise can be tied not to his brilliant songwriting but to the complete and utter decline of the rock `n' roll counterculture. By 1970, the Beatles had split, the Stones were whacked-out wildmen and the world was looking for a comforting shoulder to cry on. Bacharach has provided that shoulder, wrapped in black mohair, for the last four decades. Clearly, he started the healing process with "What the World Needs Now is Love," but Bacharach's emotional reserves went into full production with "That's What Friends Are For"--the shameless "We Are the World" knockoff that featured Elton John, Stevie Wonder, Gladys Knight and, yes, even Warwick.