Steve Ross
Birdland, NYC, November 17, 2025
Reviewed and photos by Alix Cohen
When you cull the great from the good, there are generally artists coming up behind, people with similar sensitivities/talents that can’t replace, but might carry on style, finesse, proclivity for certain material.
Monday night at Birdland we were reminded of the utter singularity of Steve Ross. In a show that had songs strung together like shimmering Christmas lights with one seamlessly giving way to the next on looped chains, Ross tapped history as if he was calling it, not singing “about” it.
A lilting “I’m Old Fashioned” (Jerome Kern/Johnny Mercer) gave way to “Puttin’ On the Ritz,” which, in turn, segued into “Stepping Out with My Baby” (both by Irving Berlin). Ross was at home here; impeccable phrasing and dancy, understated delivery are his signatures.
“The truest test of a great songwriter is how he handles this elusive thing called love. Here’s Berlin on the subject” prefaced I’ll be loving you “Always,” which was written as a wedding present for Berlin’s wife, Ellin Mackay. This waltz tune palpably sighed.
The material was grouped by authors. Ross’ “favorite Presbyterian songwriter” Cole Porter, arrived first. “I Get a Kick Out of You” and “Anything Goes” conjured chorines in satin. “You’d Be So Easy to Love” was lush and sophisticated. His classical piano training shone through, yet the musician has an unrivaled feel for early popular songs.
“I’ve Got You on My Mind” (Porter), jaunty and rarely heard, showcased the dry, patrician humor of both the writer and the performer: “You don’t sing enough, you don’t dance enough/You don’t drink the great wines of France enough/Yet, sweetheart, funny enough/I’ve got you on my mind.”
Ross stated “If you were in Takoma, Washington 1962, you might have seen Private Steve Ross in a production of Show Boat” (Jerome Kern/Oscar Hammerstein II). An instrumental medley its songs followed. Ross told us he grew up sitting under his mother’s piano. This aspiration occurred to me during this performance.
“I have a different view of a famous waltz,” Ross said, which preceded the Richard Rodgers/Lorenz Hart “Falling in Love with Love,” which emerged as a partly spoken, partly a cappella reverie rather than the exuberant fait accompli to which we’re accustomed. “(I’ll Go My Way) By Myself” (Arthur Schwartz/Howard Dietz) followed as the night the day; its minor chords contrasted with the insouciant lyrics.
Ross declared “It’s rare you have a song with romantic intent that’s also existential. If I had written the line ‘waltzing in the wonder of why we’re here,’ I’d’ve given myself a week off.” A dramatic “Dancing in the Dark” (Schwartz/Dietz) seemed to course through Ross.
This evening was additionally a celebration to mark his new CD, Steve Ross sings Sondheim (with friends). “Anyone Can Whistle” paired the master of vocal essence with the masterful economy of a potent lyric. “Send in the Clowns” was almost gothic in its shadows. Both songs were heartbreaking. How many performers can you think of who can elicit that kind of response?
Benjamin Weil, one of the “friends” from the recording, offered Sondheim’s “Not a Day Goes By” and “Being Alive.” This vocalist had a powerful, beautifully controlled instrument, but seemed little affected by the emotion imbued in the lyrics.
Guest pianist Dennis Buck assumed the bench as Ross sang an incredibly delicate “With So Little to Be Sure Of” (Sondheim) that ended with an almost whispered “hold me, hold me, hold me,” and then “No Goodbyes” (The Sherman Brothers) to his friends and fans.
Steve Ross embodies the refined, European-inflected style of mid-20th-century salon performance. His piano playing was symbiotic. He was debonair and droll, but he could be unabashedly moving, a rare combination. In the words of Cole Porter, “After You, Who?”
