Maybe what I mean when I say I don't like musicals is that I can't stomach Rogers and Hammerstein.
Or Andrew Lloyd Webber.
It's something to do with cosiness.
But Cole Porter and George Gershwin and Irving Berlin and Yip Harburg and Ethel Merman and Ethel Waters and Fred Astaire ain't cosy. No siree!
Those songs from the twenties and thirties have a Deco stylishness, a chromium shine. They shimmy and they glitter and they shake their collective ass. The moon is their mama. She smiles from an spangly sky.
Indulgence and effulgence.
My generation (or the one just before) carries on like it invented popular music. Well, nuts to that! I'm not saying that the Beatles aren't good, but there's no way they're better than the chaps I've listed above.
And let's not forget Noel Coward. He doesn't get into the picture because he's a Brit, but I love him dearly.
And let's not forget Kurt Weill.