1977 Julie Covington: Don't Cry For Me Argentina

Though 'Memory' is probably the biggest name to drop, it's curious to note that for all his extensive theatre output, Andrew Lloyd Webber has come up with precious few songs that could be regarded as standards with a life outside of their specific shows. True, his early output with Tim Rice will keep school productions in business for as long as there are schools, but for the most part it's slim pickings. 1976 and 'Evita' marked a watershed of kinds for the partnership, not just because it was their last collaboration; it marked a more mature direction and was a work that came accompanying cracking sound of wings being spread.

You don't need to have an in-depth knowledge of Argentinean politics or even have sat through the whole of 'Evita' to appreciate its showstopper (and I don't propose to go into either here) because the song is strong enough to stand by itself. But a little context helps; Eva ('Evita') Perón is standing on a balcony to speak to her home crowd with a speech riddled with honest uncertainty and hesitant insecurity, traits that Julie Covington nails each and every time with the precision of a sniper.

Just take the opening line:"It won't be easy, you'll think it strange", an almost whispered opening delivered with the self conscious hesitancy of a woman addressing her peers, that gathers confidence with "When I try to explain how I feel" (with emphasis on that "I", a egotistical show of defiance. In fact, all the '"I"s and "me"s in the song are delivered forcefully, showing where Perón - not Covington's - true priorities lie) before breaking down with an almost mumbled confession of dependency in the face of internal flaws "that I still need your love after all that I've done".*

To carry on would be to bore, but suffice it to say that Covington climbs into the skin of the song to present a masterclass in interpretation, splitting octaves with the devastating effect of splitting atoms while around her Lloyd Webber's score provides an unsettling flux of uplift and elegy that adds to the tension.

I'm not one for musicals really, and I'd be the first to admit that, as a rule, I'd rather swallow live spiders than listen to 90% of anything Lloyd Webber signs his name to. But I could listen 'Don't Cry For Me Argentina' all day, if just to admire what Covington does with it. The combination of singer and song ooze a class and sophistication (coming sandwiched in-between Mr Soul and Mr Sayer amplified this to the power of ten) that the rest of 1977 would struggle to better.

* All these subtle nuances are glaringly absent from the second most famous version of the song by Madonna. Rather than crawl into Perón's skin, she sounds like she's singing Lourdes to sleep.