Karen Mason
For the First Time
Birdland Theater, NYC, March 20, 2019
Reviewed by Alix Cohen for Cabaret Scenes
https://www.epsa-online.org/wp-content/languages/new/cialis.htmljpg” alt=”” width=”212″ height=”212″ /> Karen Mason
Photo: Maryann Lopinto
Commandeering the stage, Karen Mason launches into a teasing “Karen’s back in town” (i.e. “Lulu’s Back in Town”; Harry Warren/Al Dubin, additional lyrics Barry Kleinbort). We don’t need to be told. She tilts, bounces, gestures, smoothes her hair back, and flirts. The seasoned performer has operatic charisma.
In addition to her familiar, well-honed belt, Mason delivers sustained soft notes with lustrous clarity. She also occupies narrative material so deeply in character that the audience disappears. One can’t help wondering how it would feel should she turn that intensity to our eyes.
Far into an estimable career, Mason presents a show about firsts with openness and panache. Where has she been? the artist rhetorically asks. “On the road with Andrew Lloyd Weber’s Love Never Dies.” It was the first time she’s ever been on tour, the first time in Utica, the first time working with a trainer (“I’ve got a four pack!”), the first time trying pot—“toned and stoned.” The audience chuckles.
I never quite grasped how many of tonight’s selections related to the theme, but boy is this show fun. With little patter, she segues seamlessly from one song to the next. Succession is musically well thought out. When two songs arrive in tandem, they’re deftly woven. Christopher Denny’s arrangements are creative, subtle, and very Mason. They inevitably add dimension to the material. Pauses are particularly effective and somehow never empty.
“If I Close My Eyes” (Billy Goldenberg/Alan & Marilyn Bergman) tiptoes in. Mason is perched on a stool, one hand open on her lap. Watch how she pulls up slightly straighter for high notes as if allowing passage out. The song is beautifully calibrated, its lovely melody played with grace. Next comes “Golden Boy” entwined with “One Boy” (both Charles Strouse/ Lee Adams). See what I mean about sequence?
Mason’s acknowledges her “one boy” songwriter/husband Paul Rolnick from whose work she offers “Talking to the Moon” (with Jane R. Snyder)—“I’m talkin’ to the moon/Wishin’ on a star/Hopin’ you’re OK/Wonderin’ how you are”—a pretty ode to missing one’s love. “Ages Since the Last Time” (Louis Rosen) follows—nostalgic, shadowy, evocative. Octave transition is supple. This performer tends not to take the easy route.
“Things I’ve Learned Along the Way” (Shelly Markham/Marie Cain/Mark Winkler) arrives as a breezy duet with Denny. It bounces along (as, infectiously, does Mason—I’d lay odds she’s a good dancer), replete with a couple of Trump-focused zingers, giving us a glimpse of the congenial relationship these two enjoy.
Implying that she’s trying a different, more serious genre, Mason’s rhapsodic version of “The Ballad of The Shape of Things” (“Sir Sheldon of Harnick”), is so purposefully affected and admirably deadpan, it winks. Accompaniment is harpsichord-like.
Denny’s charming take on “The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feeling Groovy)” (Paul Simon) would be a grand way to introduce Generation X to that songwriter. Beginning with only a very cool bass, the duet with Tom Hubbard (on bass) skibbles, skips, slides, and twirls; remember? “Doo-ait-n-doo-doo, feeling groovy/Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy.”
Three songs with dancing/romance as their subject waltz in, Mason’s eyes closed as she sways. One flows to the next with polished steps. Denny barely seems to touch the keys. Hubbard uses his bow. From “Dance Only with Me” we move to a wrenching “In the kitchen, in the hall/For no reason here at all/We would catch each other’s eyes/And we would dance” to “’Cause his is the only music that makes me dance” “The Music That Make Me Dance” (Jule Styne/Bob Merrill), is best known from Barbra Streisand’s version that stresses. Though Mason is nothing if not dramatic, she wisely doesn’t overdo. The song ascends slowly, swelling to that place above the clouds most of us can only imagine. Shoulders and one arm rise as if inflated (as in a Hirschfeld drawing), palm opens, fingers splay.
We close with Kleinbort’s clever additional verses to Kander & Ebb’s “Cabaret”: “I grew up in the middle of suburbia/Where lack of live performance would disturbia.” Phrasing is delicious.
Karen Mason sings from the mind (lyrics/character) and gut, not just that bravura voice. Focus dominates. Her director, Kleinbort, encourages conjuring and allows just enough gesture. A terrific show.
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