A Cynical, Devastating Aria That Strips Away a Myth, Questioning the Price of Power and the Frailty of a Fictional Saint.
By 1978, the cultural air was thick with the anticipation surrounding Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s epic musical, Evita. This massive theatrical work was poised to capture the imagination of a generation, but its pop success hinged on a single voice—that of the charismatic star David Essex. Already a film and music idol, Essex took on the crucial, cynical role of Che, the narrator and conscience of the Argentine people. His definitive single release from the show, “Oh What a Circus,” was an undeniable, global smash, rocketing to an impressive peak of No. 3 on the UK Singles Chart in 1978 and becoming the ultimate pop encapsulation of the musical’s cutting cynicism. At the emotional core of this legendary track lies the haunting, four-word refrain that summarizes the show’s central conflict: “High, Flying Adored.” This phrase is the very dagger Che plunges into the myth of Eva Perón.
The drama of “High, Flying Adored” unfolds at the funeral of Eva Perón, the “saint” of Argentina. The country is paralyzed by grief, orchestrated and profound, but Che, the voice of the disillusioned working class, sees only the sham, the immense gap between the legend and the woman. David Essex’s portrayal, steeped in a weary, working-class contempt, transforms the song from a simple narrative device into a searing, theatrical monologue. For older readers, this song evokes a powerful nostalgia for a time when pop music dared to be deeply critical of celebrity, power, and the myths spun around public figures. Essex doesn’t just sing; he whispers his indictment of Eva’s relentless ambition, reducing her life to a fragile, fleeting performance that ultimately ended in a pathetic, solitary death.
The meaning of the aria is deceptively simple: it’s a question, a painful rhetorical query hurled at the deceased dictator’s former mistress. Che challenges the legend—how long can one be “High, Flying Adored” before the pedestal inevitably cracks? The song uses the phrase as a kind of mocking liturgical chant, a venomous piece of counter-worship. The sheer ambition required to make “Oh What a Circus” palatable for pop radio, yet retain its lyrical complexity, is a dramatic feat in itself. Essex’s vocal prowess allows him to execute the song’s demanding emotional shifts, moving from the chaotic, funeral-march energy of the main theme to the quiet, devastating cynicism of the “High, Flying Adored” section. The music, a fusion of rock momentum and sophisticated orchestration, perfectly underscores the theatrical irony: a beautiful, soaring tune used to deliver a crushing moral blow.
“High, Flying Adored” remains a testament to the powerful synergy between pop idol and dramatic material. It forever defined the role of Che and cemented David Essex’s status as an artist capable of profound emotional depth. This song, buried within a larger track but shining with its own brilliant, bitter light, is a deeply emotional reflection on the cost of ambition, the nature of idolatry, and the final, devastating moment when a public figure is forced to confront their own mortality. It stands as a timeless piece of musical drama, a sharp, cynical critique that, decades later, still cuts through the façade of celebrity with chilling precision.