Nicolas King
The Birthday Show
The Laurie Beechman Theatre, NYC, July 24, 2026
Reviewed by Alix Cohen
Photo by Stephen Sorokoff
Crammed as it was with friends and fans, The Laurie Beechman Theatre might just as well have been Nicolas King’s living room for the appreciation and support it manifested. At 35, the entertainer has been in the business 31 years—that’s not a typo.
Aided and abetted by the exceptional Billy Stritch on piano and vocals, King offered an evening of his favorites along with a film montage of (mostly) well-known friends. “When you’ve got friends like mine” led into his take on Stephen Sondheim’s “Side by Side” (Company) then “Old Friends” (Merrily We Roll Along). King danced across the stage playing with phase transition, adding an extra syllable here and there.
The vocalist could give lessons in connecting with an audience. He would focus on someone, share, and move on. If the song was mid-tempo, a brief, direct look suggested camaraderie. If it was a ballad, he paused hoping you’d feel the lyric. Duets with Stritch were harmonious, some were in actual harmony.
“(Mike) Renzi arranged this for me at 18,” introduced a tandem “I Won’t Grow Up” (Moose Charlap/Carolyn Leigh from Peter Pan) and “I’ve Got No Strings” (Leigh Harline/Ned Washington from Pinocchio). Both arrived cool and jazzy with snapped fingers. “neva, eva, no strings on me,” King sang buoyantly.
Photo by Stephen Sorokoff
At eight, playing Chip the Teacup in Beauty and the Beast, King would hear Beauty sing “A Change in Me” (Alan Menken/Howard Ashman/Tim Rice) eight times a week. Its lyrics, he told us, have taken on new meaning. He dedicated it “to anyone who has metamorphosed” including himself. The understated rendition landed like an autumn leaf.
Stritch’s solo, “Sails” (“Velas” Ivan Lins/Vitor Martins; English lyrics by Gene Lees), showcased his penchant for Brazilian music. Eyes closed, head turning side to side, the song eddied, flowed, and bubbled. The delicate verse floated on lush piano. Sigh. An entire evening of this would be welcome.
“Two For the Road” (Henry Mancini/Leslie Bricusse) emerged both wistful and rueful. With his back against the piano, both hands cradling the microphone, King used soft, measured phrasing to create sepia memories.
A Cy Coleman/Carolyn Leigh medley included the jaunty “I’ve Got Your Number” with King at first singing to Stritch. “The Best Is Yet to Come” found the musicians keying off one another with Puckish skill.
“Mr. Paganini” (Sam Coslow) was the kind of song King relishes. The challenges of shifting from a long-lined verse to an amped up swing and back required precision yet left room for him to improvise. Head-on scat darted throughout; King unbuttoned his jacket and let it rip.
“With So Little to Be Sure Of” (Sondheim from Anyone Can Whistle) acted as a tenuous nod to the future. King raised his eyebrows and closed his eyes; bravado tamped down to an intoxicating closure.
