Catch-Up on Cabaret: March 2010

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Preferring to do the late-night cabaret crawl and piano bar prowl, and then being unable to wind up the night and unwind, I therefore prefer to wake up the next day at the crack of noon.  But Thursday, I’ll need to be awake in time to get myself over to Barnes & Noble at 66^th and Broadway, for the annual in-person announcement of the MAC Award nominees at 1pm.

It’s the same space where many cabaret performers do those free sets to promote their new CDs on Wednesdays at 6 PM.  MAC’s President, Lennie Watts, will be there, of course, taking some time off from the Under the Covers cabaret series he masterminded, and has been spending a lot of his time watching its performances at Don’t Tell Mama on West 46 Street. 

As a matter of fact, so have I.  A lot of time.  “It’s so good to see you again.  How long has it been?  An hour and a half?”  That was the cheerfully winking greeting I got from Denise Anderson, alighting from her lighting booth at Don’t Tell Mama.  Some of us have been spending a lot of time there lately.  Someone mentioned it feels like a theatre festival lately with all the shows coming and going and overlapping in two rooms. Or maybe a factory.  I didn’t love everything or feel that every choice worked as performers and arrangers came out on different points in the extremes between close re-make and reinvention.  That is to say, I think some of the re-thinking could use some re-thinking.  I haven’t seen them all yet, and will be writing in detail about some of these singers saluting their longtime heroes whether love is blind or contagious.  But I admire the admiring --- and the diversity and brave choices.

NATE BUCCCIERI is musical director for CAROLE J. BUFFORD’s Randy Newman show one day, then singing with JENNIFER PACE to go through the songs on a Louis Armstrong & Ella Fitzgerald duet album, where they are not only Under the Covers but also “Under a Blanket of Blue,” according to the title of one of the tunes.  Then, within a few minutes, he’s back behind another keyboard doing one of his shifts in the piano bar.  And Jennifer’s not off-duty yet, either.  Plus her father, GARY PACE, being on either of the piano keyboards in those rooms makes it a family affair at Don’t Tell Mama for Papa.

One Sunday I musically marathoned from GRACE COSGROVE’s 2pm emotionally involving, centered, gripping, gritty and groovy Laura Nyro tribute show (where her singing has gained strength and she’ll gain momentum), all the way 'til late in the evening when AMY WOLK walked a mile in Bette Midler’s platform shoes, getting a lot of mileage and smileage out of her old razzing and razzamatazz.  That was a sassy strut on steroids merrily rolling along through concert material, complete with the vintage Sophie Tucker jokes and three prancing boys for a gender-reversed back-up trio.    STEVEN RAY WATKINS was her musical director.  He seems to be everywhere.  Probably because he is.  He was first up at bat when the whole shebang began with a bang with his Elton John album show, Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road. It’s a double album and he did double duty, as singer accompanying himself on rocking piano,  with an exciting band sound and energy that rekindled my classic rock-pop interest, oft dormant in my cabaret/theatre-focused listening.  It rekindled it like a candle in the wind.  Steven also led the band for the Dusty Springfield field day for KIM GROGG, a newer and very likeable performer who is refreshingly unpretentious, entertaining and gives concise and balanced insight into the late star.  And she can belt effectively with an affecting little cry in her voice.

Steven also is at the keys for WENDY RUSSELL’s thoughtful and sublime, mature and marvelous tour of the Barbra Streisand People album.  Put aside any preconceived notions about the toughness of the challenge of tackling superstar territory.  Though Wendy is a fan, she’s too smart and talented to settle for copying the trademark stylings,  or being radically different, just to show she can be.  In any case, that LP was just full of classy show tunes: fine and dandy songs like “Fine and Dandy,” and two written for Funny Girl: the title track and one that didn’t get into the show, “Absent Minded Me.”  With a trio likewise not aping the arrangements, there’s a freshness here, but those who know the original album will appreciate the respect being shown.  It’s a win/win and Wendy is a winner all the way, and it’s wonderful to let your ears be treated to her lovely and luscious sounds, imbued with real heart.  Sunday at 5pm is the time that will be set aside for wise People. No tricks, just talent.

Steven the musical chameleon also was at the keys for ANGIE McKNIGHT’s hoot of a salute to Cher.  What fun!  We get trashy and splashy songs with zippy singing, a big, electric smile full of joy and naughty nuttiness that makes us forgive (almost) anything, irreverent patter, a sense of flying by the seat of her pants (actually, dresses and a full Half Breed Native American costume for our fine-feathered friendly performer).  And we get some of Angie’s playfully winking-but-thinking songwriting as an extra added treat.

The Rumours are true – SHAYNEE RAINBOLT has gone Latin (not loco) for her salsa spicing-up of the Fleetwood Mac album from the 1970s.  You can go your own way.  Her band is hot, but that pop group and their songs always mostly left me cold (several gazillion people who bought it disagree with me).  Nevertheless, the Rainbolt voice is one I like a lot, and when the ballad came up, it was heavenly.

Also at Don’t Tell Mama, a couple of returnees.  The impish man who puts the “Ray” in “Cabaret,” RAY JESSEL is back with his laugh-out-loud irrepressible original songs, like his tale of having “The Short-Term Memory Loss Blues.”  His senior moments are moments of mirth for us and him. Don’t suffer from memory loss and forget to go; you might regret it.   And there’s CYNTHIA CRANE’s return engagement at DTM with her show featuring some John Denver songs and reflections on how her life and perspective have changed after she and her family were ripped off big time by Bernie Madoff.  So was the Denver estate; thus, the connection.  Cynthia is a survivor and she’s a good soul with a big heart and much humor -- some self-deprecating --- who communicates all that with precision, panache and perspective.  It’s all about “seize the day,” and how she sees the day now that the dust has settled,  and she’s brushed it off her shoulders just has Denver’s sunshine on ‘em.  Cynthia’s newest CD is just out: a recording of her earlier show at the Metropolitan Room:   I’m Confused, Therefore I Am.

And at that same Metropolitan Room, here’s a follow-up on the JOE BACHANA show I previewed last time.  You can catch the last scheduled performance on Wednesday this week.  Nice trip in the time-traveling machine, Joe.  With old songs by Bernie Bierman, with or without collaborators, Joe was right on target.  Nostalgia reigned supreme, optimism and sweetness fought cynicism, and came up the victors.  Joe the pro, with arms outstretched and singing sincerely and irony-free was like a big band singer of yore, also championing the songs and their sensibilities. Also on hand, and deserving of a big hand, for a few numbers is Valerie diLorenzo, similarly glowing and on the same page from the past.  The audience-pleasing band is led by Barry Levitt.  In the audience, and then coming up to sing and play a tune --- and steal the show --- was Mr. Bierman, age 101!  These folks know how to sell a song and bring a whole lot of smiles.  And we can all use a few of those.  Two-drink minimum at this show, but no minimum on smiles.  You’d lose track anyway.

Happy Spring.