Have I got a girl for you! Wait till you meet her!
Have I got a girl for you, boy!
Hoo, boy!
Dumb! And with a weakness for Sazerac Slings!
You give her even the fruit and she swings.
The kind of girl you can't send through the mails!
Call me tomorrow, I want the details.
Have I got a chick for you! Wait till you meet her!
Have I got a chick for you, boy!
Hoo, boy!
Smart! And into all those exotic mystiques--
The Kama Sutra and Chinese techniques.
I hear she knows more than seventy-five.
Call me tomorrow if you're still alive!
Have I got a girl for you! Wait till you meet her!
Have I got a girl for you, boy!
Hoo, boy!
Boy! To be in your shoes what I wouldn't give!
I mean the freedom to go out and live!
And as for settling down and all that,
Marriage may be where it's been, but it's not where it's at.
Whaddya like? You like coming home to a kiss?
Somebody with a smile at the door?
Whaddya like? You like indescribable bliss?
Then whaddya wanna get married for?
Whaddya like? You like an excursion to Rome?
Suddenly taking off to explore?
Whaddya like? You like having meals cooked at home?
Then whaddya wanna get married for?
Whaddya wanna get married for?
Whaddya wanna get married for?
Whaddya wanna get married for?
This is Sondheim, seeming to write about one thing, but really writing about something unstated (again!). “Send in the Clowns” seems to be a low-key chuckle, but really it’s a scream of pain. “The Glamorous Life” seems to be a boast, but really it’s a scream of pain. “Have I Got a Girl for You” seems to be a fun bit of horseplay, but really it’s a scream of pain. Do you notice a trend? (I imagine Sondheim listening to “Who Will Buy?” from “Oliver,” when he wrote “Have I Got a Girl.” Both are songs in which speakers “hawk their wares.” Also, I can’t help but notice Sondheim’s fondness for slightly cliched phrases in “Company”; he does something new with these phrases. “Have I got a girl!” “Bobby baby.” “You could drive a person crazy.” “Poor baby.” “Come on over for dinner!” Sondheim takes these banal bits of American language and makes them into operatic refrains. The “Jerry Springer Musical” does something similar. It’s poetic. The trick underlines the difficulty we all have in trying to articulate our deepest wants; we reach for dull language and half-formed sentences, again and again and again. Sondheim knows this; he has compassion for us.)
What is a Sazerac Sling? It’s a kind of drink. Surely, Sondheim is the one and only writer to take “Sazerac Slings” and rhyme it with “swings” (and surely he is aware of this fact). “You give her even the fruit and she swings”: This virtuosic bit of comic hyperbole isn’t *really* meant to suggest that one cherry from a “Sling” will lead the young woman to offer herself in a threesome. But this is what men do when they are excited: They reach for exaggerations and begin to sound like fifteen-year-old boys. Sondheim goes on to make more fun of the breezy misogyny in Larry’s brain: “The kind of girl you can’t send through the mails! Call me tomorrow, I want the details!” (“Who will buy my sweet red roses? Two blooms for a penny!”)
The speaker changes; now Peter jumps in. The comedy comes from Peter’s re-appropriation of Larry’s template. Now, the Desired Girl is not “dumb!” but “smart!” (Do these men know what they’re talking about? The casualness of labels! Can it be possible that Bobby would want both an airhead and an intellectual? How well do Larry and Peter really know their friend? Are they not really addressing Bobby? Are they really addressing themselves? Yes, indeed.) No Sazerac Slings here: Just “all those exotic mystiques,” “the Kama Sutra,” “Chinese techniques.” (I love the blitheness of “all those”--as if we all know precisely what Peter is talking about. As if there is a quantifiable number of “exotic techniques,” and we have them all at our fingertips. Sondheim is lightly mocking the haziness of Peter’s thinking. And the “seventy-five”/“alive” rhyming; again, Sondheim is observing the faux-wittiness of contemporary speech. “Call me tomorrow if you’re still alive!”)
And then the husbands just come out and put their cards on the table. “Marriage may be where it’s been, but it’s not where it’s at.” The grass is always greener. The contrast between “has been” and “is at”: Sondheim the obsessive grammarian and builder of puzzles rejoices. Form underlines content. The husbands, driven mad by their poor choices, end with one obsessive question: “Whad’ya wanna get married for? Whad’ya wanna get married for? Whad’ya wanna get married for?” This isn’t a major “Company” song, but it’s exquisite; it’s like precise work on the tiniest gargoyle attached to a vast cathedral. Sondheim was fully coming into his powers with “Company.” Julian Barnes said, of Lorrie Moore’s early-mid-career “Birds of America”: It’s always fun to see a young artist learning to fly, but then when she starts soaring, that’s the good stuff.” “Company” is Sondheim’s “Birds of America.” It’s when he soars.
Have I got a girl for you, boy!
Hoo, boy!
Dumb! And with a weakness for Sazerac Slings!
You give her even the fruit and she swings.
The kind of girl you can't send through the mails!
Call me tomorrow, I want the details.
Have I got a chick for you! Wait till you meet her!
Have I got a chick for you, boy!
Hoo, boy!
Smart! And into all those exotic mystiques--
The Kama Sutra and Chinese techniques.
I hear she knows more than seventy-five.
Call me tomorrow if you're still alive!
Have I got a girl for you! Wait till you meet her!
Have I got a girl for you, boy!
Hoo, boy!
Boy! To be in your shoes what I wouldn't give!
I mean the freedom to go out and live!
And as for settling down and all that,
Marriage may be where it's been, but it's not where it's at.
Whaddya like? You like coming home to a kiss?
Somebody with a smile at the door?
Whaddya like? You like indescribable bliss?
Then whaddya wanna get married for?
Whaddya like? You like an excursion to Rome?
Suddenly taking off to explore?
Whaddya like? You like having meals cooked at home?
Then whaddya wanna get married for?
Whaddya wanna get married for?
Whaddya wanna get married for?
Whaddya wanna get married for?
This is Sondheim, seeming to write about one thing, but really writing about something unstated (again!). “Send in the Clowns” seems to be a low-key chuckle, but really it’s a scream of pain. “The Glamorous Life” seems to be a boast, but really it’s a scream of pain. “Have I Got a Girl for You” seems to be a fun bit of horseplay, but really it’s a scream of pain. Do you notice a trend? (I imagine Sondheim listening to “Who Will Buy?” from “Oliver,” when he wrote “Have I Got a Girl.” Both are songs in which speakers “hawk their wares.” Also, I can’t help but notice Sondheim’s fondness for slightly cliched phrases in “Company”; he does something new with these phrases. “Have I got a girl!” “Bobby baby.” “You could drive a person crazy.” “Poor baby.” “Come on over for dinner!” Sondheim takes these banal bits of American language and makes them into operatic refrains. The “Jerry Springer Musical” does something similar. It’s poetic. The trick underlines the difficulty we all have in trying to articulate our deepest wants; we reach for dull language and half-formed sentences, again and again and again. Sondheim knows this; he has compassion for us.)
What is a Sazerac Sling? It’s a kind of drink. Surely, Sondheim is the one and only writer to take “Sazerac Slings” and rhyme it with “swings” (and surely he is aware of this fact). “You give her even the fruit and she swings”: This virtuosic bit of comic hyperbole isn’t *really* meant to suggest that one cherry from a “Sling” will lead the young woman to offer herself in a threesome. But this is what men do when they are excited: They reach for exaggerations and begin to sound like fifteen-year-old boys. Sondheim goes on to make more fun of the breezy misogyny in Larry’s brain: “The kind of girl you can’t send through the mails! Call me tomorrow, I want the details!” (“Who will buy my sweet red roses? Two blooms for a penny!”)
The speaker changes; now Peter jumps in. The comedy comes from Peter’s re-appropriation of Larry’s template. Now, the Desired Girl is not “dumb!” but “smart!” (Do these men know what they’re talking about? The casualness of labels! Can it be possible that Bobby would want both an airhead and an intellectual? How well do Larry and Peter really know their friend? Are they not really addressing Bobby? Are they really addressing themselves? Yes, indeed.) No Sazerac Slings here: Just “all those exotic mystiques,” “the Kama Sutra,” “Chinese techniques.” (I love the blitheness of “all those”--as if we all know precisely what Peter is talking about. As if there is a quantifiable number of “exotic techniques,” and we have them all at our fingertips. Sondheim is lightly mocking the haziness of Peter’s thinking. And the “seventy-five”/“alive” rhyming; again, Sondheim is observing the faux-wittiness of contemporary speech. “Call me tomorrow if you’re still alive!”)
And then the husbands just come out and put their cards on the table. “Marriage may be where it’s been, but it’s not where it’s at.” The grass is always greener. The contrast between “has been” and “is at”: Sondheim the obsessive grammarian and builder of puzzles rejoices. Form underlines content. The husbands, driven mad by their poor choices, end with one obsessive question: “Whad’ya wanna get married for? Whad’ya wanna get married for? Whad’ya wanna get married for?” This isn’t a major “Company” song, but it’s exquisite; it’s like precise work on the tiniest gargoyle attached to a vast cathedral. Sondheim was fully coming into his powers with “Company.” Julian Barnes said, of Lorrie Moore’s early-mid-career “Birds of America”: It’s always fun to see a young artist learning to fly, but then when she starts soaring, that’s the good stuff.” “Company” is Sondheim’s “Birds of America.” It’s when he soars.
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