Marissa Mulder
This is 40!
The Green Room 42, NYC, February 6, 2025
Reviewed by Alix Cohen
On Thursday February 6, Marissa Mulder celebrated her 40th birthday by performing. Her song choices (and stories) were unabashedly personal. She was vulnerable and resilient, homespun and polished, coltish and wise, grounded and spiritual, and always authentic. She shimmered.
Mulder has always been her own person onstage. While most cabaret performers present the Great American Songbook, she was ahead of the curve, confidently choosing contemporary material. She admitted she has a penchant for sadder, darker lyrics—even tonight. Her phrasing was iconoclastic, but the meaning of the lyrics was paramount. Coquettish songs were effervescent.
“I recommend biting off more than you can chew to anyone/I certainly do/I recommend sticking your foot in your mouth at any time/Feel free” she sang earnestly. (“You Learn” by Alanis Morisette.) Many of the songs Mulder chose expressed the need and desire to take a risk. “You’re Gonna Hear from Me” (Dory and Andre Previn from Inside Daisy Clover) was emphatic but not loud. She no longer needs to prove herself; she’s on a journey of self- discovery. “I’m fortune’s child,” she observed.
Two songs by Joni Mitchell followed. “Won’t you stay as we put on the day?” (“Chelsea Morning”) Mulder entreated as she leaned out to us, her eyebrows in a point. She’s a communicator and often focuses on individual faces. Beneath the rustling purple pleats of her gown, her left leg kept time. Nate Buccieri’s piano undulated as her voice climbed, circled, and returned with frisson in its wake. “Sara Bareilles wrote this for a woman in an abusive relationship. The chasm between who we are and who we thought we might be is always something we’re negotiating,” she observed. The lyric stated “She’s imperfect, but she tries/She is good, but she lies.” (“She Used to Be Mine” from the musical Waitress). Mulder spoke some of the lyric, some others were sung, creating a dramatic turn. John Miller’s bowed bass added to the pathos.
“Old Fashioned Hat” (Anais Mitchell) was as a duet with Buccieri whose sandy vocal added cool to the bluesy number. Mulder dedicated Barielles’ “Chasing the Sun” to the recently deceased Danny Bacher, a genuinely buoyant spirit. “We can always be chasing the sun/So fill up your lungs and just run.” That’s good advice. Buccieri was on backup vocals. “Do not go where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail,” she quoted from Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Ed Kleban’s “Better” (on the list of songs Sondheim wished he’d written) started with the lightly played piano chords. Kleban wrote choose “thin” over “fat,” “in” over “out” (as “better”). Mulder, backed by an infectiously rhythmic bass, embraced the song’s playfulness. The familiar “Good Thing He Can’t Read My Mind” (Christine Lavin) emerged as a scene in one. We believed every droll word. Mulder was endearing.
Touching stories of her beloved grandparents led into two perfectly selected songs. “I’ll see you when you get home,” her gran said aware she was dying. (This could have been an O. Henry story.) “Marjorie” (Taylor Swift/Aaron Dessner) was a wrenching elegy; the room was stilled. Verses of “End of the World” (Matt Alber), one of Mulder’s signature songs, drifted down in sighs like falling leaves. Another song that spoke to and about her, “Hand in My Pocket” (Morisette), took us back to balance as she sang “I’m broke, but I’m happy/I’m poor, but I’m kind/I’m sane, but I’m overwhelmed.”
This was a thoughtful, honest show. Marissa Mulder seemed to be a gentle soul (not a wuss) on the lookout for miracles. She created her own vista and moved forward. Take a few songs down a notch, Marissa, and Happy Birthday; you deserve a party.
