It’s not at all clear to me what one, you, the reader, the viewer, expects to find here. If you would like to hear my thoughts on a particular subject, by all means let me know.

But in the mean time, because I am spending most of my time writing the second book in the Misdemeanor Man series, I will cheat and use an excerpt from there. Here’s a little more on one of my favorite subjects, Mr. Barry Manilow.

Manilow matters.

Say it to yourself. Say it out loud. Tell your friends. Call your therapist. Write your high school sweetheart. It’s time to settle this thing. It’s time to put it to rest. Here it is again---a proper name and an intransitive verb; five alliterative syllables; one straightforward assertion---Manilow matters.

Arguably Barry Manilow is the most successful recording artist of all time. He has sold more than fifty million albums. He had twenty five top forty hits in ten years. He had five number one albums in a row. He has a Grammy and an Emmy and a Tony and an Academy Award nomination. Twenty five years after Mandy, he sells a vast volume of records. Barry is indisputably, irrefutably, huge.

Manilow has an unbeatable story, too. He was a poor, shy, Brooklyn kid, a mail clerk at CBS records who dreamed of being a musician, an arranger, but never a celebrity. And though Barry went on to become one of the biggest stars on the planet, he never lost his sense of humor, his unassuming, retiring style. He stayed close to his family, he remains true to his roots. He may live in LA, but he still sounds like he’s from Brooklyn. He is real as real gets.

Barry also has the best organized, most close-knit, loyal, and long-standing fans in the world. And there’s no group of music enthusiasts that has taken a worse beating over the years. But despite the ridicule, despite the sneering and teasing and scorn, Barry’s fans know their man and they stick with him. They always have and they always will.

But these are not why Manilow matters; these, rather, are the matters-Manilow. They are what we see when we see him. They are what we talk about when we talk about him. Barry is big. Barry is loved. And Barry is lovable.

So why does Manilow matter?

It’s the music. And it’s that simple. Do yourself a favor. Put aside your judgments, close your eyes, and listen. Listen to Even Now. Listen to Somewhere in the Night. Listen, to the hits, to the less well known tunes. Whistle along with the introduction to Can’t Smile Without You. Sing along to Mandy. Even if, no, especially if you think you absolutely can’t stand Barry Manilow, take a half hour and listen.

If you have a heart and a soul and are not so emotionally stunted that you can’t be reached, what you’ll find is that the songs are not simply inspiring and passionate and thrilling. They aren’t simply a nearly perfect amalgam of words about love and life, on the one hand, and music that is as deceptively simple as it is emotionally affecting on the other.

What you will find is that Barry’s songs are timeless. And they are timeless because they mirror, unabashedly, candidly, who we are. Manilow matters because his music is a looking glass to which we can, and I predict we always will, turn to get a glimpse of ourselves.