Chess in Concert

Ladies and gentlemen, Tim Rice.

Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen.

It’s a great pleasure to be here at the Albert Hall

in a concert version of a show

I wrote, or began writing,

with Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson

about a quarter of a century ago.

And I think at last we’re getting it right.

And one of the reasons why I think we’re getting it right

is that we’ve got a terrific team here

under the direction of Hugh Wooldridge.

And I’d like you to meet them—

I’d like you to meet them

just before we get going.

So will you please welcome Josh Groban,

Idina Menzel,

Adam Pascal,

David Bedella,

Clarke Peters,

Kerry Ellis,

and the pride of Scotland Marti Pellow!

And will you now please be kind enough to welcome

the man whose charismatic baton

will control the proceedings,

maestro David Firman.

Each game of chess

means there’s one less

variation left to be played.

Each day got through

means one or two

less mistakes remain to be made.

Not much is known

of early days of chess beyond a fairly vague report.

That 1,500 years ago two princes fought,

though brothers, for a Hindu throne.

Their mother cried,

for no one really likes their offspring fighting to the death.

She begged them stop the slaughter with her every breath.

But sure enough one brother died.

Sad beyond belief, she told her winning son,

“You have caused such grief.

I can’t forgive this evil thing you’ve done.”

He tried to explain how things had really been.

But he tried in vain.

No words of his could mollify the queen.

And so he asked the wisest men he knew

the way to lessen her distress.

They told him he’d be certain to impress

by using model soldiers on a checkered board

to show it was his brother’s fault.

They thus invented chess.

Chess displayed no inertia.

Soon spread to Persia,

then west.

Next,

the Arabs refined it.

Thus redesigned, it progressed.

Still farther yet,

and when Constantinople fell in 1453,

one would have noticed every other refugee

included in his bags a set.

Once in the hands

and in the minds of leading figures of the Renaissance,

the spirit and the speed of chess made swift advance

through all of Europe’s vital lands.

Where we must record the game was further changed.

Right across the board,

the Western touch upon the pieces ranged.

King and queen and rook

and bishop, knight and pawn

all took on the look we know today.

The modern game was born.

And in the end

we see a game that started by mistake in Hindustan

and boosted in the main by what is now Iran

become the simplest and most complicated

pleasure yet devised

for just the kind of mind who would appreciate

this well-researched and fascinating yarn.

The World Chess Federation,

of which I have the honor of being president,

announces that the next world championship

will take place here in Merano, Italy.

The current world champion, Frederick Trumper

of the United States of America,

will defend his title against Anatoly Sergievsky

of the Soviet Union.

The first player to achieve six victories

will be declared champion.

The first game will begin

on March 27th, 1979.

Welcome, world, to Merano.

O light the heart

that lingers in Merano.

Merano! The spa no

connoisseur of spas would miss.

Highly recommended

– is this sweet metropolis. – Mental and physical bliss.

The gods have smiled,

and blessed is Merano.

Merano! There are no

fitter burghers to be found.

Take the time to taste us.

We’ll give you a welcome that’s typically Tyrol,

for then we are sure of our ground.

Right now we’re Italian— we used to be German.

The border keeps shifting around.

Speaking as one of the patriarchs,

I don’t mind taking your lira or marks.

Oh I get high when I saunter by

the mountains of Merano.

Rosy-cheeked Merano.

Flourishing to a fault.

The sparkling streams, the bracing air,

the therapeutic salt.

I’d have to be carried away to call a halt!

Oh I feel great in this bouncing state.

O hail to thee, Merano.

Hearty hale Merano.

– Any objections? – Nein!

Where breathing in will turn you on.

Where water tastes like wine.

Get out your get up and go

and get in line.

It’s living your life in a show by Rodgers and Hammerstein.

Oh sad the soul

who passes by Merano.

Merano! So far no

soul has ever passed us by.

Why not stay forever?

– Oh so many reasons why. – All those in favor say “Aye.”

Aye! So sing our song.

Let’s hear it for Merano.

Merano! Soprano,

– Alto, – Tenor,

– Bass agree. – (We’re wholesome.)

What a happy haven.

This is a place where your arteries soften.

Cholesterol hasn’t a chance.

From mountain to valley, the natural goodness

– is fighting pollution’s advance. – So come to us

and feel the force.

All major credit cards taken, of course.

Oh I get high when I saunter by

the mountains of Merano.

Rosy-cheeked Merano.

Flourishing to a fault.

The sparkling streams, the bracing air,

the therapeutic salt.

I’d have to be carried away to call a halt!

Once in a while all the gods will smile

on little old Merano.

Humble shy Merano

suddenly hits the press.

And I report with all the pride

and joy that I possess,

half of the world and his wife has our address.

Our little town will be rife

with games of chess!

Get out your get up and go and get in line.

It’s living your life in a show

by Rodgers and Hammerstein!

What a scene, what a joy! What a lovely sight

when my game is the big sensation!

Has the mob’s sporting taste altered overnight?

Have they found new sophistication?

Not yet! They just want to see

if the nice guy beats the bum.

If it’s East-West

and the money’s sky-high,

they all come.

You can raise all you want if you raise the roof.

Scream and shout and the gate increases.

Break the rules, break the bank.

I’m the living proof.

They don’t care how I move my pieces.

Well, I know I’m the best there is,

but all they want is a show.

Well, that’s all right.

I’ll be glad to oblige.

S.R.O.

S.R.O.!

Oh I get high when I saunter by

the mountains of Merano.

Rosy cheeked Merano.

Flourishing to a fault.

The sparkling streams, the bracing air,

the therapeutic salt.

I’d have to be carried away to call a halt!

Oh I feel great in this bouncing state.

O hail to thee, Merano.

Hearty hale Merano.

– Any objections? – Nein!

Where breathing in will turn you on.

Where water tastes like wine.

Get up your get up and go

and get in line.

It’s living your life in a show

by Rodgers

and Hammerstein!