Ann Hampton Callaway & Liz Callaway
The 15th Anniversary of Boom!
54 Below, NYC, January 14, 2026
Reviewed by Alix Cohen

Photo by Bill Westmoreland
Sisters Liz Callaway and Ann Hampton Callaway grew up as fans of distinctively different music and followed distinctively different career paths. It was not until Liz visited Ann at college, we’re told, that they found much in common.
Liz had a successful career on Broadway before she ventured into cabaret and concerts, while Ann wrote songs and performed in cabaret. Both have appeared alone as well as together. It’s a testament to this especially artful collaboration that tandem presentations not only show off their individual strengths as vocalists but gave us a glimpse into their singular characters.
Some of the best duet arrangements in the business, created by MD/pianist Alex Rybeck and Ann, made the songs appealingly unique. The stage presentation by Dan Foster and the sisters’ patter were warm and winning.
In 2011, Broadway World aptly called Boom! “a celebration soundtrack of their childhood with the unforgettable songs of the 60s & 70s.” Tonight, wearing high white go-go boots, the ladies infectiously delivered selections familiar to most of the enthusiastic audience.
“Can you believe it’s been 15 years?! Liz asked. “I can,” Ann replied, “I’m still 40. The only difference is Liz has joined AARP.”
The resonant vamp from “Come Together” (John Lennon/Paul McCartney) arrived with “Boom Shaka-lacka” punctuation. Ritt Henn’s guitar deftly slip/slid. Liz, then Ann, rhetorically asked “What does that mean?!” A few chords of “Eleanor Rigby” snuck in with a wink.
With a preface of familiar “whoa, whoa, whoas,” Liz sang “Always Something There to Remind Me” (Burt Bacharach/Hal David). At the piano Alex Rybeck bobbed his head and swayed. Even with so light a pop song, she seemed sincere. Ann, Rybeck, and Henn sang back-up.
“While Liz was bopping to Bacharach, I was drawn to Joni Mitchell,” Ann told us while she was sitting at the piano. Her version of “A Case of You” emerged thoughtful and grounded, as if she were remembering a relationship from further back than Mitchell’s own version. Single-syllable words became multiple syllables as Ann made it her own. A little round-edged scat bridged.
The “Back-Seat-of-the-Car Medley” began with the Janis Joplin/Robert Neuwirth/ Michael McClure “Mercedes Benz” and ended with Hoyt Axton’s “Joy to the World”—anything to avoid their parent’s Mantovani radio music. Songs morphed seamlessly one into another.
“You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin” (Phil Spector/Barry Mann/Cynthia Weil), with ballast from Ron Tierno’s percussion and vocal back-up, had a mossy, muted sound until the Motown chorus arrived. Step, pause, step, pause, the ladies moved as the music coursed through them. They would have been great back then.
Liz and Ann’s father was a reporter during the Vietnam war and the civil rights protests. One can imagine one of their dinner conversations. We’re reminded that “Blowin’ in the Wind” (Bob Dylan) was based on an 1800s spiritual. (Dylan acknowledged adapting the melody of “No More Auction Block.”) Ann’s rendition began in spiritual fashion accompanied only by piano, then whomp! she swung it. The presence of a robed choir would have been fitting. This was no reverie, but rather an evangelistic call to the barricades. The bespoke arrangement favored her bluesy take on the song.
Ann wanted to be the fifth Beatle, Liz wanted to be the sixth Dimension. Liz performed two songs recorded by The Fifth Dimension followed by an infectious pairing of Tony Hatch’s “I Know a Place” and his “Downtown.” The mischief in her eyes added to palpable enjoyment as she almost pranced. We’d long since shrugged off the world outside.
For Lee Hazlewood’s “These Boots Are Made for Walkin” the sisters donned white-framed sunglasses. They sat straight backed with their right legs crossed. Deadpan delivery, syncopated bass, and commenting drums conjured Bob Fosse-like movement. “You keep thinkin’ you’ll never get burnt. Ha!” they sang. “Hit the road Jack!” they interjected.
“La, la, la la” began a Stevie Wonder medley, which opened with “All in Love Is Fair” and closed with “For Once in My Life.” 54 Below’s reflecting disco ball revolved and the audience stood as one. The sisters turned towards one another for an encore of Carole King’s “You’ve Got a Friend” bathed in affection—theirs for one another, ours for them.

