Review: Nellie McKay

This cabaret act solidifies Nellie McKay’s right to be considered the 21st Century Blossom Dearie, but even more surreal, subversive and nutty. She’s a supreme stylist, with broad, substantial musical intelligence behind every single understated flourish. She combines heart-on-sleeve sincerity with supremely arch, dry wit; she’s utterly unique, her performance style multifarious and unpredictable, drawing ideas from extremely diverse eras and genres.

The act, at the Birdland Theater, is edgy even for a venue that regularly features post-bop royalty – she opens with the casually venomous “Inner Peace” from her 2004 debut album – all the while displaying musical taste and restraint so impeccable you dare not take issue with her cabaret bona fides. It’s 100% a solo act, just Nellie in a bejeweled drum majorette’s uniform, accompanying herself on piano, and exceptionally expressive ukulele (I’d go so far as to call her a virtuoso of the uke). Plus there’s a Hammond XK electric organ (a favorite instrument of mine) which adds just the right level of kooky spook to her original “Zombie.” Speaking of kooky, her version of the jazz ballad “Willow Weep for Me” breaks into wild boogie-woogie in the middle; it’s a left-field move, which somehow feels just right.

She becomes one with the piano, forcing you to focus on the nuances of both the music and the lyrics. While she still places a knowing distance between herself and the audience, this show finds her the most comfortable I’ve ever seen her just being her utterly unique self, communing with the vibe in the room. McKay’s a highly individual talent, with wildly crazy creativity to match her razor-like interpretive ability. She’s a true original, and it’s an exceptional pleasure to hear her in such an intimate setting. Highly recommended.

For tickets, click here.

To learn about Jonathan Warman’s directing work, see jonathanwarman.com.

Advertisements

Review: Ann Hampton Callaway

The Linda Ronstadt Songbook as sung by Ann Hampton Callaway – how perfect! Callaway, a multiplatinum-selling pop and jazz singer/songwriter, is best known for writing and singing the theme from the TV hit The Nanny. She also has the distinction of writing three songs for Barbra Streisand, which inspired her earlier cabaret act “The Streisand Songbook” (Ann is also an out lesbian, who gave me the honor of being the journalist to do her “coming out interview” – you can read that here).

Callaway has now turned the same idea – a “songbook” based on a singer who is primarily an interpretive artist – towards Ronstadt, and the results are stunning. Initially, Ann had thought that she would do material from Linda’s “Great American Songbook” albums with Nelson Riddle, and maybe just nod to Linda’s hits. It would have been the path of least resistance: The Songbook is Callaway’s comfort zone. However, she’s opted to do the opposite (“What’s New?” and “Am I Blue?” are the only songs from the Riddle albums), with very powerful results.

Callaway’s version of “You’re No Good” is really roaring – she talks about the song’s undeniable energy after she sings it, and boy does she give it that. Her raging take on “Poor Poor Pitiful Me” is simultaneously harrowing and thrilling. She has the benefit of having Ronstadt’s long time guitartist and arranger, Bob Mann, as part of the quartet backing her up, which lends the sound the very same grit he brought to the originals.

Callaway successfully covers most of Ronstadt’s multi-faceted career – thought she didn’t address Linda’s Spanish-language records, which I did miss – crafting a loving musical portrait of a brilliant interpretive artist who improved every song she sang. Callaway is a great interpreter in her own right, so every number in this show is doubly rich in turns of story and melody. Highly recommended.

For tickets, click here.

To learn about Jonathan Warman’s directing work, see jonathanwarman.com.

Review: Raja

One of the most effortlessly stylish queens ever to appear on Drag Race, Raja is doing her second solo cabaret show at the Laurie Beechman Theatre. Titled Masque, the show features a little bit of everything: some singing, some monologuing about contemporary issues, and a whole lot of fashion fierceness.

As a matter of fact, after singing one of her original songs in a bejeweled and horned mask, Raja says “this is the part of the show where I do nothing but fucking model for two and a half minutes,” proceeding to give indescribable body and face to Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy.” There’s your admission fee covered right there.

And even though she says “that all the choreography you’re going to get” after a handful of hip bumps in her first sung cover of the evening – Tina Turner’s “Private Dancer” – don’t you believe it. Raja instinctively swirls, twirls and dips with aplomb whenever there’s music. That makes me wish the ratio of talk to music favored music more, even though the monologues are spiritually and politically deft and intelligent. Maybe a tad repetitive, but I’ll chalk that up to the weed and wine she cheerfully admits to having taken in.

Raja has a warm charismatic presence, which makes you think she’d be able to put over just about anything she wanted. Recommended.

For tickets, click here.

To learn about Jonathan Warman’s directing work, see jonathanwarman.com.

Review: Jane Lynch & Kate Flannery

Spill Carol Burnett, Louis Prima and Keely Smith into a cocktail shaker, mix violently and pour the results into two portions, one taller than the other, and you will have the double act currently playing at the Cafe Carlyle. That would be, as they introduce each other, “America’s Jane Lynch” and “Kate Flannery, brought to you by Jameson.” Or, as you may have first met them, Sue Sylvester from Glee (Lynch) and Meredith Palmer from The Office (Flannery).

Their act is called “Two Lost Souls” and is, in the main, silly fun which attacks the American Songbook with equal parts affection and gimlet-eyed irony. Lynch and Flannery first met as members of Chicago’s sketch comedy scene, where they recognized each other as singers of more or less equal gifts – strong bright voices with solid musicianship. There’s an old bromide that all comedians are frustrated singers, but this duo puts the lie to that; they’re real singers who use their comic gifts to shine fresh colors on the songs they sing.

It’s pretty plain that Lynch is the writer/actor here, and Flannery the improvisationally inclined loose cannon. The night I was there Flannery offered that her “underwear was on backwards” to which Lynch responded (with flawless timing, mind you) “I don’t know what to do with that information.” As recording artists they only have one CD, a Christmas album under Jane’s name, and they were quite clever about working songs from that repertoire into a show for a sweaty, soggy September evening.

A more serious theme emerges slowly, about the personal damage that the Songbook often reflects, but it is worn lightly and spooled out with wit and elegance. Recommended.

For tickets, click here.

To learn about Jonathan Warman’s directing work, see jonathanwarman.com.

Review: Scott Thompson / Buddy Cole

“He was one of those faggots that made respectable gays so uncomfortable.” Thus said Buddy Cole, the fey martini-drinking creation of comedian Scott Thompson. This was from a monologue that Scott / Buddy did on Canadian sketch comedy show Kids in the Hall. It was about a friend of Buddy’s, but he could have been talking about himself. Now Thompson has revived Buddy for a tour called Aprés Le Dèluge which just had a sold out run at Joe’s Pub, a collection of about 10 monologues set in various years between 1995 (when Kids went off the air) and today.

In these monologues, buddy covers a variety of issues from straight men to having children – Buddy chose to have an imaginary child (“so much simpler!”) – to adventures with Uday Hussein while dressed in a burqa. Things get really hilarious when we get to the present day, when Buddy encourages trans kids to fight their corner, and observes “Thank goodness they changed the word for # from ‘pound sign’ to ‘hashtag’ because #MeToo would mean something completely different.”

The wild audience response at Joe’s Pub indicates there’s a real hunger for Cole’s scandalous super-gay brand of comedy; I certainly could use a lot more of it myself. To quote Buddy one last time “As Molière said to Guy de Maupassant at a café in Vienna, ‘That’s nice. You should write that down.’”

For tickets, click here.

To learn about Jonathan Warman’s directing work, see jonathanwarman.com.

Review: The Count Basie Orchestra

This big band has been in continuous existence (with the shortest of breaks in the early 1950s) for 83 years now. I attribute their longevity and continued popularity to the fact that they are “the band that plays the blues” as their motto goes. Bluesiness has never gone totally out of fashion, being an important part of jazz, rock and hip-hop. This big band was “rhythm and blues” long before that term existed, and they still can’t be beat for rhythm or blues today.

Their command of volume control, both loud and soft, is astonishing; there’s a number in their current songlist at Birdland where they put this on gratuitous display. Bandleader Scotty Barnhart gives the signal to the rhythm section to bring the volume down, again and again, until you think they can’t get any quieter, and then take it down some more. Astonishing.

Though the band is know for the tightness of its ensemble playing, each member of the orchestra is a serious soloist in their own right. For the number “Basie Power” the alto sax section of Dave Glasser and Immanuel Wilkins traded solos with an intensity that edged towards bebop. Hot hot hot.

You need a big brassy voice to sing over this band – of its 20+ pieces, over 90% are brass. Carmen Bradford certainly fits the the bill, belting “I Love Being Here With You” with great vigor and bluesiness. Though Count Basie passed in 1984, his orchestra continues to be as dynamic and forceful as ever. Highly recommended.

For tickets, click here.

To learn about Jonathan Warman’s directing work, see jonathanwarman.com.

Review: La Cifra

This 1789 comic opera by composer Antonio Salieri – only now having it’s American premiere with Dell’Arte Opera – put a permanent grin on my face throughout, and made me openly guffaw more often than any other opera I can think of. It is actually laugh out loud funny.

This is partially due to the work of librettist Lorenzo Da Ponte, my pick for greatest opera librettist of all time. He’s most famous for his collaborations with Mozart (La Nozze di Figaro, Don Giovanni and Così fan tutte). Mozart called all three opera buffa or “funny opera,” but they are generally more wry, satirical and thoughtful than the gleefully low farce we find in La Cifra. Still – and this is the particular genius of Da Ponte – every now and again there’s a single line that cuts through to very human truths, or casts things in a more ambivalent light. La Cifra made me laugh – a lot – but also frequently made me pause for thought.

Salieri deserves a big part of the credit too. There are some luscious melodies here, but what really stands out is his comic timing, not a terribly common gift in operatic composers. In the Act I finale the ensemble hits a loud chord at the least expected moment, causing one to laugh from sheer surprise. When the cast is puzzling over an important cipher (the titular cifra) in the final scene, Salieri has fun spacing out the letters of this mysterious code. And these are only the most obvious examples of Salieri’s pervasive musical wit.

The character with the most stage time is Rusticone (Angky Budiardjono), a greedy scheming father, a stock type descending from the character Pantalone in commedia dell’arte. Da Ponte comes close to making us sympathize with the wily bastard, to the point of the whole story being seen from his point of view. Budiardjono takes that and runs with it, conspiratorially taking the audience into his confidence. Budiardjono has a vigorous yet precise sense of timing in every way, musically, comically, physically and more.

The plot is fluff directly out of commedia with all sorts of frustrated love, mistaken identity and general buffoonery. Stage director Brittany Goodwin had the savvy to lean into this commedia quality, encouraging the cast to go for a broad physicality which fits the material exceptionally well.

The cast is uniformly strong vocally, but what really matters here is that they are also all gifted comic actors. Standouts in this area include Allison Gish, who gives us Rusticone’s hedonistic daughter Lisotta with infectious exuberance, and Jay Chacon, who is clownish perfection as love-struck peasant Sandrino. Recommended.

For tickets, click here.

To learn about Jonathan Warman’s directing work, see jonathanwarman.com.