The Rise and Fall of a Star, and the Cyclical Nature of Life’s Victories
There are songs that define a moment, and then there are songs that define a whole era. “And the Money Kept Rolling In (And Out)” isn’t just a song; it’s a poignant, theatrical, and almost tragically beautiful piece of musical history that speaks to the heart of what it means to reach the pinnacle of success only to see it all come crashing down. Sung by the iconic David Essex, this track is a powerhouse from the 1978 concept album, a rock opera titled Evita, written by the formidable duo of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice. It’s a song that, for many of us, transports us back to a time of grand stage productions, dramatic narratives, and a certain kind of larger-than-life storytelling that feels rare today.
The song’s story is deeply intertwined with the life of its subject, Eva Perón. It’s a cynical yet masterful portrayal of her transition from a beloved figure to a woman whose foundation, initially established for philanthropic purposes, was seen by critics as a mechanism for her own personal enrichment and influence. The lyrics, delivered with a biting, sardonic flair by Essex as the character of Che, reveal a disillusionment with the spectacle of power. He sings of the money coming in, but with a knowing wink that it’s also going out, not for the people, but for the luxuries of the wealthy and powerful. The narrative arc is a mirror to the fleeting nature of fame and fortune, a theme that resonates with anyone who has lived long enough to see the endless cycles of boom and bust, both in the world of entertainment and in life itself.
For those of us who remember the aural landscape of the late 70s and early 80s, the song’s sound is instantly recognizable. It’s a blend of rock, pop, and Broadway, with a driving rhythm that feels like a relentless march toward a predetermined fate. While it didn’t chart as a standalone single in the UK, its home, the Evita soundtrack, was a monumental success. It became a cultural touchstone, with hits like “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” reaching the number one spot and solidifying the musical’s place in the pantheon of theatrical legends. David Essex’s presence on this album, following his massive individual successes with songs like “Rock On” and “Gonna Make You a Star,” added a layer of rock and roll credibility to the project. He brought a raw, street-wise energy to the character of Che, a cynical journalist who acts as the voice of the people, questioning the very foundations of the spectacle he’s forced to witness.
The song’s genius lies in its dual meaning. On the surface, it’s a critique of political corruption, but for many of us, it’s a reflection on the universal truth that nothing lasts forever. The money, the fame, the power—it all comes and goes. We see ourselves in that story, in the triumphs and the eventual fade to black. The song captures a fleeting moment in time, but its message is timeless, reminding us of the fragility of our own achievements and the importance of looking beyond the surface. It’s a beautiful, melancholic piece that evokes a sense of shared nostalgia for a time when music could tell a complex, epic story, and a single song could carry the weight of an entire theatrical narrative. It reminds me of evenings spent with friends, listening to albums in their entirety, captivated by the drama and the artistry. That’s a feeling that, much like the money, seems to have rolled in and out of our lives.