Two eclectic performers have joined forces to make their American debuts in a series of shows this month at Don’t Tell Mama in New York and Bob Egan’s Cabaret Supper Club in New Hope.  Entitled Lyrical Linguists from London, there is much to recommend in Ellen Verenieks and Frank Loman, both of whom have extensive backgrounds internationally in musical theater and cabaret.  Through their inventive repertoire and playful banter, it’s clear they’re having a good time and I suspect you’ll have one, too, if you’re smart enough to make their acquaintance.

Verenieks, a petite wisp of a girl whose diminutive size belies a giant-sized heart, harbors an infectious smile and a flattering resemblance to popular New York actress Jessica Stone, currently appearing as Erma in the Roundabout’s Anything Goes.  Verenieks’s chief asset as a singer with a beguiling mezzo is that she delivers a comedy number with a freshness that’s compelling.   But the songs she’s chosen aren’t just any comedy numbers.  Rather, they’re from that challenging genre of song that seems humorous on the surface but which actually has an undertow of heartbreak just underneath.  Tim Minchin’s “If I Didn’t Have You” fits this category, as does the wonderful “Never Learned to Type” by Charles Miller & Kevin Hammonds.  The latter, from the quirky British musical When Midnight Strikes, becomes a showcase for Verenieks’s wry sense of humor which she wraps in a direct delivery style that’s as authentic as it is moving.  She also essays Rick Crom’s “Is There a Straight Man in the House?,” as well as Marcy Heisler & Zina Goldrich’s classic, “The Alto’s Lament,” both examples of more straightforward comedic fare which Verenieks handles with ease.    A more inspired choice for her is Cy Coleman & Dorothy Fields’s “Pink Taffeta Sample, Size 10,” which also benefits from her simple, honest approach.  Cut from Sweet Charity, and memorably recorded by the great Mimi Hines, it’s a song about a woman remembering a childhood of longing for her absent father’s love which finally arrives in the form of a dress sample while he’s on the road working.  Verenieks locates the essence of Coleman & Fields’s terrific writing without making it cloying or sentimental – adjectives which could never be used to describe this charming performer.

Verenieks’s cohort in cabaret crime is the provocatively handsome Frank Loman, a German-born singer with Anderson Cooper-ish features whose skin-tight, jungle-print pants are as teasing as his personality.  Blessed with a strong lyric tenor, Loman excels at contemporary pop ballads, especially Julie Frost & John Gordon’s “Satellite,” with which Lena Meyer-Landrut won the Eurovision Song Contest in 2010, and John Bucchino’s gorgeous “If I Even Say I’m Over You.”  By the time LOman performs both of these, he is relaxed enough to deliver them with an honesty and directness that eludes him earlier in Sondheim’s “Buddy’s Blues.”  (Always a hard number to make work, this difficult number from Follies is even riskier with a critically-acclaimed revival currently running on Broadway.)  Another pair of ballads, Lara Fabian & Walter Afanasieff’s “Broken Vow” and Jacques Brel’s “Quand on n’a que l’amour” (“If We Onlky Have Love”) show off Loman’s voice well, particularly the French lyric of the Brel which he lends a sexy-dreamlike quality that is a welcome change from some of the more bombastic Brel interpretations of other singers.  What’s interesting about Loman is that many of his song choices will seem in direct conflict with the persona he exhibits on stage, which is one of cheeky promiscuity and titillating suggestiveness.  It’s not until he settles down and sings for real, particularly the Bucchino and the Brel, that you realize that it’s just like a case of “the lady doth protest too much.”  Under all that bravado, it’s clear Loman is a deeply sensitive man who wears his self-protective layers on his proverbial sleeve.

As for reservations I have about Lyrical Linguists from London, there are only two that concern me.  The first is that there often seems to be a disconnect between the accompaniment of Musical Director Michael Ferreri and the singing of Verenieks and Loman.  The majority of this “pull” I can assume is a combination of limited rehearsal time and the fact they’re working with a new accompanist, which can always be daunting.  But there are a couple of moments when I felt Ferreri expected the singers to follow him when—of course—he should be following the singers.  Undoubtedly, the three of them will get all those kinks ironed out soon.  The second reservation is that Verenieks and Loman don’t do more duets, especially since the two on their program—Brett Kahr’s “Dangerous Cabaret,” which opens the show, and Sondheim’s “Move On,” which closes it—are highlights of the evening and allow them to interact with each other.  They might consider cutting one or two of their solos and inserting several more duets into the show, of which I can think of dozens and dozens of songs that would be perfect for them.  (“The Grass Is Always Greener” from Kander & Ebb’s Woman of the Year and “How Could You Believe Me When I Said I Loved You When You Know I’ve Been a Liar All My Life?” from Lerner & Lane’s film score for Royal Wedding, are two that spring to mind.)  Still, even without more stage time together, Verenieks and Loman are a welcome addition to these shores and our cabaret community.  New singers would do well to learn from their interesting material as well as their affinity for each other and their craft.

Editor’s Note: Lyrical Linguists from London has ranother show on October 5 at Don’t Tell Mama.

David Hurst
Cabaret Scenes
September 27, 2011
www.cabaretscenes.org