Laurie Krauz & Daryl Kojak
Sets
Don’t Tell Mama, NYC, November 13, 2025
Reviewed by Alix Cohen
A daredevil performance!
Vocalist Laurie Krauz and MD/pianist Daryl Kojak have been working together 34-plus years. The pleasure they took in each other’s talent and their symbiotic approach were palpable. Don’t Tell Mama was packed, and extra tables were added. The room vibrated.
We were eased into the evening with “Never Never Land” (Betty Comden & Adolph Green/Jule Styne). Rather than being performed as the accustomed lullaby, it had a quiet ferocity. Its denouement evoked a deep intake of breath before Krauz exited on higher notes. Kojak’s “Birthday Blues” followed. While the he scatted under his breath, much like Jay Leonhart does, Krauz deploys hers with precision and aural gusto.
A true original, Krauz scats as if she were speaking. Her whole body participated expressively from feet to arm-and-hand gestures that were as articulate as the lyrics. Though a “foreign” language, we not only got the gist of the song, we viscerally felt its emotion. The rhythmic boil consumed; it was dance.
Sets was a desire for the duo to “go back to the simplicity” with which they started, “when I still had the two hips I was born with,” she told us. Thus tonight was only with the two collaborators.
Perched on a stool, Krauz sang “A House Is Not a Home” (Burt Bacharach/Hal David) in tandem with “Since You Stayed Here” (Peter Larson/Josh Rubins) and pushed past the melancholy to the wrenching. Lyrics were wrung from her, and her pauses caught the audience’s breath.
Photo by Stephen Hanks
“Please Don’t Do It in Here” (Billie Holiday/Buster Harding) arrived as a gutsy reaction: “Kick off the roof/Break out the panes/Smash in the walls/And bust out your brains/But, baby, please don’t do it in here.” It was sassy and jazzy with a piano bebop.
The iconic “Some Enchanted Evening” (Richard Rodgers/Oscar Hammerstein II) opened hauntedly, with the sounds of the piano like fluttering birds surfing a breeze; mist seemed to rise off water. Again, this take was unique. We heard no wistful sighs, no suggestion of something to which one might look forward. Instead, a conflagration of anger rose up. Brow furrowed, Krauz smoldered. She appeared to be offering rueful advice, perhaps a warning. The piano accompaniment was stormy.
“Send Me a Man” (Alberta Hunter/added lyrics by Krauz) was a highlight of the show. Krauz mined double entendre with consummate skill, calling to mind a contemporary Mae West without camp exaggeration. Innuendo, sounds, facial expression, moves…part spoken, part sung. Sitting beside Kojak on the piano bench, her vocal manifested sex. Eat your heart out Meg Ryan*; Krauz knew what she was doing! It was hot, funny, and empathetic.
“Shush, we’re hunting wabbits” Krauz said at the top of Kojak’s “Duck Soup.” Stealthily stepping side to side, she launched into buoyant scat. In fact, the partners conversed in evocative sounds that streamed, hiccupped, burped, and wah-wahed. Saying “Everybody sing!” she encouraged the audience to join in on a chorus, and we did (miraculously we were able to). It was a giggly hoot.
“The Glory of Love” (Billy Hill) was dedicated to Krauz’s recently deceased mother. “It’s everything we all need to hear,” she declared. Jazz and gospel swirled together to deliver a pithy message. Her winner-take-all voice riveted. Kojak played with inflamed authority. The song was evangelistic.
“There Are Such Things” (Stanley Adams/Abel Baer & George W. Meyer) closed out the show: “A peaceful sky, there are such things/A rainbow high where heaven sings/So have a little faith and trust in what tomorrow brings/You’ll reach a star because there are such things.” Krauz and Kojak will return on February 17 for the next iteration of Sets. I, for one, will be there.
*I refer to the diner scene in When Harry Met Sally in which Sally startlingly imitates an orgasm.
Photos by Stephen Hanks
Note: “Scatting” in vocals is a form of vocal improvisation that uses nonsensical syllables instead of actual words, often found in jazz performance. The voice is treated like an instrument, mimicking melodic and rhythmic patterns.
