I really dig what impresario Scott Siegel is achieving—keeping The American Songbook a vital part of our culture—by offering both stars and newcomers alike a platform to shine.  So far, my favorites of these long-running events (produced by The Town Hall) have been Broadway’s Rising Stars and Broadway by the Year.

Friday’s Broadway Melody Makers presented Songbook favorites, with varying vocal interpretations.  First the good news: Tom Wopat (pictured).  I have avoided him until now, due to my preconceived notions that a TV star on Broadway may likely be a suspect enterprise.  My bad.  Mr. Wopat delighted me to my core with his utterly charismatic connection with the audience.  He was there to entertain—old style, free of gimmickry while owning a secure vocal technique. He submitted sophisticated jazzy interpretations (“Cool”, “Luck Be a Lady Tonight”), eventually displaying his chops in the knock-out duet, “You’re Nothing Without Me” (City of Angels) with Gregg Edelman—the evening’s last minute replacement for Michael Cerveris. Edelman, a cheery showman and entertainer, was charming if somewhat vocally overextended. He did his best work in the duet.

The bad news—very bad—is the entertainment community’s puzzling embrace of Nellie McKay.  The Empress wore plenty of cute outfits but her contempt for the music and her audience mounted as the evening progressed. Rarely has such a top-billed performer offended me as Mackay did, starting with her snarky grin and complete disconnect from any earthly rapport.  Her slender instrument was sweet enough when she accompanied herself onIrving Berlin's “What’ll I Do?” a la Blossom Dearie, whom it momentarily appeared that she was emulating.  Whereas Dearie inhabited a song, McKay barely showed up, exampled by her laziness when letting the final higher notes collapse as if it was not important to make the slightest effort to nail them.  “It’s All Right with Me” started promisingly, but she incongruously interpolated an extremely non-musical scat section with faux operatic screeching that sounded like something one would hear at a bad open mic.  Finally, Ms. McKay’s “I Could Write a Book” duet, featuring Brian Charles Rooney, degenerated quickly into an out-of-tune, out-of-step mess that could be expected from a goofy adolescent’s first attempt to make music.  I offer McKay no council as her career seems to be blooming. But I do advise any sincere lover of the music to stay away from this female equivalent of Tiny Tim.

The rest of the evening featured the vocally gifted and award-winning divas—Alice RIpley, Mary Testa and Judy Kaye—singing the wrong repertoire in the wrong keys—ultimately forcing them into awkwardly produced vocal climaxes that at times went on overdrive.  I tend to suspect the music these warriors have repeatedly subjected themselves to, through the years, has not been kind to them.  In the days of Rodgers and Hammerstein (or even Sondheim) they would have been able reach a maturity without placing their instruments on the sacrificial alters of voice-wrecking roles penned by Andrew Lloyd Webber and such.  As it was, they were either hard pressed (Judy Kaye) or hysterical (Alice Ripley), never relaxing into their groove, with the exception of Mary Testa’s richly belted “Hard Hearted Hannah.”

Scott Siegel takes chances and that is admirable. I am confident that his next show will return to the quality of what we have grown used to.  Musical direction more sensitive to the singers’ ranges would be well appreciated.

Melody Breyer-Grell
Cabaret Scenes
October 15, 2010
www.cabaretscenes.org