Sidney Myer
Pangea, NYC, December 23, 2025
Reviewed by Alix Cohen
Photos by Lou Montesano
In a class by himself, Sidney Myer once again packed Pangea on successive nights. This irresistible artist wove together an evening filled with wry subtext, outright drollery, and porcelain tenderness.
Myer gets right to the essence of a song’s lyrics like a divining rod; there is nothing extraneous in his vocals or his gestures. His phrasing might be compared to that of Mabel Mercer’s. His occasional interjections are disarming and enhance his performance; his facial expressions are Chaplinesque.
The first part of the evening was a seemingly bespoke selection of new material, and the second had signature songs that were anticipated and welcomed by a crowd that spontaneously sang along with the choruses.
Popularized by Marlene Dietrich, “I May Never Go Home Anymore” (Ralph Arthur Roberts/Jack Brooks) arrived with a music-box piano. “Give your arms to me/Give your charms to me/After all, that’s what sailors are for” Myer sang with his fisted hands on his hips. It was, after all, a love song. Following on its heels was “I’m Perfect” (Phillip Namanworth),enriched by Myer’s animated eyebrows and nuanced double takes. Everyone has flaws but the singer finally met his match. We saw bravado somewhat cowed. “This is for the mezzanine!” he declared.
Years ago, Myer watched “magical” Mary Martin in One Touch of Venus. The song “That’s Him” (Kurt Weill/Ogden Nash) resonated. “It never occurred to me that one day I’d be able to sing it,” he said. It was deeply moving, and it emerged as the epitome of vulnerability. Tracy Stark’s piano burnished the song.
Myer announced “And now songs of the season.” They began with a Jewish “Santa Baby” (Joan Javits/Phillip Springer/parody lyrics by Sidney Myer, good enough for him to moonlight). “Slip a brisket under the tree for me,” he sang. His lyrics went on to feature latkes and applesauce, kashavarnishkes (toasted buckwheat groats) kasha tossed with bow-tie noodles (varnishkes), and sweet, caramelized onions, and—wait for it—schtupping (sex). In Joshua Cohen’s clever “A New Year’s Eve Love Song,” Myer promised to schlep anywhere in the world with his love, “Down the Styx, down to Hades/through the fire of despair/to the devil’s own lair/But not to Times Square on New Year’s Eve!”
“Too Much Love” (Mark Dundas Wood/Tracy Stark), performed in duet with Stark, proclaimed “you can have too much of anything but love.” The brushes flickered on the drums while the bass swaggered. Stark unexpectedly opened “The Kerry Dance” (James Lynam Molloy) by playing the flute and then a slow-waltzing piano. Hands clasped, Myer exuded yearning, and a guitar added folksy reverie. It was haunting.
Among familiar selections, we heard “Mary Cohen” (Chuck Prentiss), for which we chimed in on the chorus. “Pheromones” (Joan Cushing): “You can have this body/Whenever you want/As long as I can have your…pheromones”; and the inimitable “It’s So Nice to Have a Man Around the House” (Harold Spina/Jack Elliott): “Nice… Man… House!,” which many of us can literally not hear without inserting Myer’s voice.
A rousing “Good Advice” (Allan Sherman/Lou Busch) with tap-dancing percussion—“Ah, play that thing!” Myer shouted—and hurdy-gurdy piano also encouraged the audience to join. Myer inhabited every character while he teetered on dance. “Oh, those jungle drums!,” he exclaimed. It was infectiously cheerful. An encore of Cole Porter’s “True Love” combined with Paul Horner and Peggy Lee’s “Angels on Your Pillow” was just beautiful.
The arrangements were symbiotic, and the musicianship was swell. Skip Ward played upright bass and guitar; Dave Silliman provided percussion along with nifty sound effects; and MD Tracy Stark was on the flute and piano. Peter Schlosser directed the show.
Sidney Myer (and company) cut through the noise to a wellspring of feeling—unhurried, endearing, teasing, and irrepressible.
