Dream Teams

From a songwriting duo to engineers who spawn doe-eyed robots, meet four pairs who define—and defy—the terms of a creative partnership.

By Carlin Flora, published on May 01, 2008 - last reviewed on January 09, 2009

Denise has been outspoken in defending herself, but today laments, "All it's done is make everyone write about my 'woman's problem,' whereas the solution is to write about my work." Bob states that any past lapses in giving his wife credit reflect his inability to separate the pair's respective contributions. "I don't really think that much in terms of her versus me," he says. "When I'm giving a lecture, and I can't think of a word in the middle of it, I'll look down and say 'Denise—what's the word?' And she'll know it."

As Denise gleefully adds, "One of our clients said, 'When you have Robert Venturi and Denise Scott Brown together, you have double your problems.' There's no retreat!"

Broadway Balladeers: Marcy Heisler & Zina Goldrich

Hundreds of characters, from precocious children to hapless princes, haunt the crevices of Marcy Heisler's Manhattan apartment. It's where most of them were created, groomed, and given voice. Marcy, a lyricist, is at home most days, sitting back-to-back with composer Zina Goldrich. On a laptop, Marcy plays with a libretto for their forthcoming Broadway show, Ever After, based on the 1998 movie. Zina sways over an upright piano while a tape recorder catches spontaneous phrases.

"Let's farm it!" Marcy says. "When we get close to a melodic structure," Zina explains, "I sing it with nonsense stories about a farm, like, 'The chickens like to go see the cows.' That allows me to plant the song, so Marcy knows what rhythm the lyrics need to follow."

Marcy and Zina, giggle and bounce around like two girls at a slumber party. As they debate the plot points they must hit and the emotional tones they want to strike, the Diet Coke cans pile up; barely a second of silence offsets the music and banter.

Marcy and Zina have written off-Broadway theater shows, including Junie B. Jones, and songs for television clients such as Disney, for 15 years. Their romantic comedies reflect a shared attitude toward love: "neurotic optimism." It's on display in "That's All," in which a character starts off with high hopes:

What do I want in a woman?

Platinum hair and smart and funny

Disposition: sweet and sunny

Goes to yoga, comes from money—that's all!

But by song's end, he espouses more realistic desires:

A girl with any color hair

Who actually wants me there

And walks and talks and breathes the air—that's all!

The pair met at a musical theater workshop. After being "just friends" for a year, they started to collaborate by creating a series of songs for children, about manners.

They usually agree on what's working and what needs to be tweaked, but when they don't, they follow two rules: First, they can't be angry at each other for more than 45 minutes, and second, if they are arguing about a song and the issue is lyrical, Marcy gets the final word. If it's a musical quandary, Zina decides how to resolve the conflict.

"Marcy's written with other people, I've written with other people, which can be like birthing an elephant—a really painful experience," says Zina. They think of their connection as a mystery, akin to romantic chemistry. "There's a bit of fairy dust involved in the whole thing. But at the core is our friendship." If Zina goes to Marcy's apartment to work, for example, and notices plates in the sink, she rolls up her sleeves. "I hate doing dishes at my own house. But if Marcy hasn't done hers, it's an indicator that she's sad."

"I always say Aaron is my husband, and Marcy is my wife," Zina jokes. "My husband is really supportive of what we do, but he's bewildered by the bond Marcy and I have." Composing music together demands wearing your heart on your sleeve, Marcy explains. "When you're doing something that requires you to be so out there emotionally, it's a relationship that's hard to replicate."

Adam Epstein, the producer who hired the pair for Ever After recalls seeing them for the first time at a songwriters' forum in 2002. "Their energy is so infectious. Some teams stay together out of fear or for financial reasons, but Marcy and Zina have a natural collaboration. They see the world through the same prism." At the same time, they inhabit distinct spheres:

Marcy is a single girl-about-town while Zina has two young children. The contrast gives them a broader range of relationship scenarios to tap into for their work.

The struggle to succeed in show business is intense. "When you're pursuing this craft on this level, there's a lot at stake," says Marcy. "There always a lot of pressure to create what's popular. What we recognized in each other was our own need to live close to our own souls. I knew that working with Zina would take my voice the farthest it could go."

Two Men and a Machine: Aaron Edsinger & Jeff Weber

In the heyday of San Francisco's dot-com boom, Stanford grads Aaron Edsinger and Jeff Weber rejected start-ups in favor of "OmniCircus," a Marxist art movement that staged robotic uprisings. There they helped build a mechanical red-light district, meant to showcase society's cast-offs. Its robot stars included Plowgirl, a babbling junkie, and Godfella, a street-preacher with a loudspeaker.