Ben Jones
Timeless
Laurie Beechman Theatre, NYC, March 11, 2026
Reviewed by Jacqueline Parker

Photo by Gene Reed
Ben Jones delivered his idiosyncratic brand of magic to a highly receptive audience at the Laurie Beechman Theatre by taking tunes from the American Songbook and giving them relevancy to a younger audience. He also presented some more modern songs that he felt should be part of that canon, and he performed them in ways pleasing to an older audience.
How does he accomplish this two-way musical time travel? With professional ease is the simple answer. Jones is young enough that Gershwin and Kern are legitimately part of his grandparents’ generation. He took them, dusted them off to a high polish, and then presented them in all their not fyet ully realized glory. “The Way You Look Tonight” (Jerome Kern/Dorothy Fields) and “Embraceable You” (the Gershwins) are almost a century old, yet Jones imbued them with an energy and unbridled sincerity that left his listeners with no other choice but to smile and sigh. His ability to hold a final note was remarkable and dramatically intense. Perhaps in this performance he was aided by the presence of his wife, to whom he seemed to be directing many of the numbers.
It has been said that the phrase “falling in love” is such a perfect description because when we fall, we are helpless. Jones seemed unable to help himself at times in expressing deep-seated emotion, a rare characteristic these days in or out of cabaret.
“Ain’t No Sunshine” (Bill Withers) was seemingly pushed and pulled in so many ways that in a quirky, almost synesthetic moment, that I felt the song itself must be tired from the exercise Jones had just put it through. It was an experience I’ll never forget.
Jones was not the only one who was working the music for all its worth. Ron Abel, who was also celebrating his birthday, seemed to be having a great time at the piano. Oz Noy on guitar, Jed Fedder on drums, and Yuka Tadano on bass brought their personal virtuosity to the proceedings.
Remember the sensation the first time you tasted chocolate dusted with a pinch of salt? That’s the feeling Jones evoked when he sang “People Will Say We’re in Love” (Rodgers & Hammerstein). Jones sped up “It’s All Right with Me” (Cole Porter) so effectively that it was like being on the bullet train of cabaret.
The band held back a bit during “Being Alive” (Stephen Sondheim); then they joined Jones about halfway through and helped him crack open that familiar number to reveal—and force listeners to acknowledge—emotions that we all carry deep within ourselves.
Many performers sing from the heart, which is grand. Jones, however, seems to be singing from his soul. One senses that his total outpouring of emotion is not in his control, that his soul overwhelms his heart and mind. Bravo, soul!

