Behind the Song: Frank Loesser’s ‘Adelaide’s Lament’ from Guys and Dolls

When my dad turned 45, my older sister Jemima made him a tape: The Mid-Forties Workout Tape. It was a compilation of all her favourite music that she thought Dad would like too. I haven’t managed to find the prized copy, but the only song I can really remember was ‘Adelaide’s Lament’, which of course I only knew as ‘A poyson can develop a cold’.

It seemed to be a comedy sketch, or a blues without blues chords, and whatever it was I loved it. I tried to learn all the words, but of course I got stuck on ‘streptococci’. When later I saw the song onstage, I was well on the road to realising that Frank Loesser was one of the maybe four or five true geniuses working in Musical Theatre.

Adelaide has a cold. She always has a cold. Very few people in musicals ever have colds, because it ’s not great for singing. But Adelaide has a bad one, and as her character is there to garner sympathy and hold up a mirror to the flawed male characters, it ’s a great device for laughs, for stor y and for this song.

This song, which has to fight for space alongside ‘Sit Down, You’re Rockin’ the Boat’, ‘Guys and Dolls’, ‘Luck Be a Lady’, ‘If I Were a Bell ’ and so many other luminous classics, and still often comes out as the number people are talking about in the bar. It ’s the song that shows the audience that Adelaide has more wit and verve than we’ve been led to believe.

‘It says here…’ She picks up a book. Maybe we see the book, maybe we don’t, but it’s clearly from the pop psychology/ self-help genre, and it convinces Adelaide that her cold is caused by something else. Him. Nathan. Crap. That ring is getting heavy…

We begin colla voce – ‘follow the voice’ – so the actor is in control. She can take her time chewing over the first few words: ‘The average unmarried female / Basically insecure…’

This provides a delicious contrast with Adelaide’s previous appearances. In ‘A Bushel and a Peck’ she is definitely in the ‘performing for peanuts’ category, but this is her moment, her chance to push the story and character forward. It’s exemplary theatre writing.

We’re in a minor key, simple accompaniment, no clues to the bombast and brass that will come later in the song. Loesser achieves simplicity and relatability in the most harmonically obscure and nuanced way – he can weave us through a melody that feels so natural and fitting to the character and the scene, but it ’s actually obtuse in its form.

That brings us back to the book. She’s reading from the book, so that’s why the lines are an odd length. ‘SEE NOTE.’ Who else had done this?! Such a high level of immersion in the play, in the world, and all the time referencing the situation. It’s magnificent.

She then draws her first conclusion: ‘In other words, just from waiting around for that plain little band of gold / A person can develop a cold.’ Here the music shifts to the major key – she’s made a discovery, and, in response, the music becomes less angular and scientific and more hers. As she grows in confidence (she can actually pronounce ‘streptococci’, unlike seven-year-old me), we’re now thinking – she’s really something. Adelaide has been mistreated and neglected by the permanently flummoxed Nathan Detroit. We’re backing a new horse.

Talking of horses… Arthur Loesser was an accomplished pianist like his brother, but didn’t achieve anything like Frank’s iconic status. He is though remembered for this witty remark, describing Frank as ‘the evil of two Loessers’. Frank had that particular spark: the ignition that allowed him to create great art, full of ingenuity and creativity, but also to write a simple lyric like that of the American childhood piano staple ‘Heart and Soul’.

But back to the song. And back to the book, back to the minor key – we follow the same pattern until la grippe is introduced. Adelaide speaks French? A cynic might suggest it ’s only there as another rhyming option (‘trip’, ‘drip’, ‘pip’) but while it does open up new sonic possibilities, it also makes the cold worse.

As the climax approaches, the cold spirals out of control, so it’s all just wonderfully framed around Adelaide. I can’t espouse this enough – great theatre songwriters always think of the character and the intent beyond anything. Rhymes, assonance, homophones and alliteration help deliver the point to the audience as they help with the immediate digestibility of the song, but if you want to write a great song for theatre, this is where it starts. Frank Loesser was never less than great.

For tickets to Guys & Dolls, visit bridgetheatre.co.uk