Klea Blackhurst
An Evening with Klea Blackhurst
Chelsea Table + Stage, NYC, October 20, 2024
Reviewed by Jacqueline Parker
Photo: Bill Westmoreland
This evening began with music director Michael Rice singing a little ditty he wrote about Klea Blackhurst, listing all the things she is. Then Klea made her entrance almost imperceptibly, creeping up to the microphone to add in a singing whisper, “I’m shy,” and then she launched into the song “I’m Shy” (Mary Rodgers/Marshall Barer). Well, I’m sure Rodgers was beaming down from her heavenly perch at this most ironic twist on her famous song from Once Upon a Mattress. Blackhurst worked the song up the musical scale until she delivered it in her full, stentorian splendor. From that moment on it seemed as though we were all in one of those Sunday-afternoon Hollywood parties that bled into evening and then into late night; Gene Kelly was famous for them. After sports in the yard, everyone went inside, and the entertainment began. It was informal, of course, but it was rollicking and full of hilarity and mega talent.
One of Blackhurst’s signature skills is to make the audience believe every lyric. When she sang Cy Coleman and Dorothy Fields’ “It’s Not Where You Start (It’s Where You Finish)” or “A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes” (Mack David/Al Hoffman & Jerry Livingston) it seemed as though a valuable life lesson had been proffered.
Her repertoire for the evening was varied; it included a few songs I had never heard before. “A Pretty Girl Milking Her Cow” (authorship unknown), was one. It was actually a traditional 18th-century Irish ballad that, she told us, had been sung by Judy Garland in the film Little Nellie Kelly.
One of the highlights of the evening was Blackhurst’s performance of “And While I Still Have the Time” (Marvin Hamlisch/Rupert Holmes) from The Nutty Professor. The message of this song was sobering—a wake-up call of sorts—much like “Before the Parade Passes By” (Jerry Herman), which she sang movingly. She made the urgency of time at one’s back so palpable that reviewing one’s personal bucket list seemed inevitable.
So accustomed are we to Sinatra’s wry and sardonic rendition of “That’s Life” (Kelly L. Gordon/Dean Kay) that it was thoroughly refreshing to hear it pepped up a bit, and that’s just what Blackhurst did. She imbued it with her own brand of energy, which carried over into “Don’t Rain on My Parade” (Jule Styne/Bob Merrill). Every Klea Blackhurst show is full of surprises, whether it’s a new tune or a hilarious anecdote. Who else could cram yodeling and scatting along with a pocket trumpet into one show? Only Klea.
