Karen Mason

More SPF! The Summer Continues

Don’t Tell Mama, NYC, August 8, 2025

Reviewed by Jacqueline Parker

What an evening! It was like being Alice going through the looking glass. One minute we’re in a sold-out cabaret room, and in the next one we’re back in the 1960s, reliving youthful memories with Karen Mason as our guide. As we crossed the fabled 59th Street Bridge, we gladly traipsed back to an exhilarating time of innocence, lava lamps, and transistor radios that were carried everywhere (perhaps a precursor of the cell phone). Yes, back then there were assassinations, the Vietnam war, and LSD, but all that seemed far away from the joy this show delivered. Mason bounded to the stage dressed in white from head to toe, ignoring the clichéd tie-dyes, bell bottoms, or go-go boots. Even her hair had a natural Jackie Kennedy flip to it!

Her show’s title implied sunscreen, but Mason insisted that “SPF” stood for “songs, patter, and fun”—which she delivered with her impeccable style. This change-of-pace show began most appropriately with the upbeat “Summertime, Summertime” (Tom Jameson) followed by a more subtle take on “Downtown” and “I Know a Place” (Tony Hatch). Eschewing the usual beat and volume of those two songs, she emphasized the darkness and mystery one might not have associated with them. This approach on many of the songs she chose was quite refreshing; most of them are well known, so her gift for finding new interpretations was welcome. For most of us, these were songs from our youth, sung by Mason with a sensibility we could not have had as young people. She teased that last hidden bit of emotion out of a lyric so unobtrusively that one was barely aware of the magic.

In a terrific arrangement by Brian Lasser she performed “When in Rome (I Do as the Romans Do)” (Cy Coleman/Carolyn Leigh) with such verve that I wondered “Is she 17, 37, or ????” Underscoring the theme of the song, she claimed to always have had wanderlust, and added slyly, “and I had the other kind as well, but that’s another story!”

A high point came when she put the spotlight on her songwriter husband, award-winning Paul Rolnick, who (with Paul Guzzone) wrote “South of the Coconut Line.” Before she sang it, she warned us that she’d be playing a musical instrument on stage for the first time. Then she picked up an egg-shaped maraca and accompanied herself in this ode to a time before there were emails and the internet. She also showed off her terpsichorean talent with a brief demonstration of the twist and the mashed potato!

Barry Kleinbort’s “The Kindest Man” was tender and poignant, evoking memories of loves that might have been lost or almost lost. She gave each word the attention it deserved and left a few attendees with a slight tear in their eyes. “You’ve Got a Friend” (Carole King) followed, and both songs were rendered tenderly and quietly.

There was a method to Mason’s deliberate volume reduction throughout, and it was revealed in a sensational arrangement of “Help!”/“Being Alive” (John Lennon & Paul McCartney/Stephen Sondheim) by director Barry Kleinbort and music director and pianist Christopher Denny. It seems natural for these two songs to be put together, and it took these two musical wizards to make it happen. It was as though Mason had saved all her vocal power for this number, so when it built to a crescendo, the effect was stunning. To say the crowd went wild might seem cliché, but it was really the best way to describe their reception to that number.

She closed the show with “Those Lazy-Hazy-Crazy Days of Summer” (Hans Carste/English lyrics by Charles Tobias) and encouraged everyone to sing along.

Throughout the show she acknowledged her team, whether its members were on stage with her or in the audience. In addition to those already mentioned, Tom Hubbard on bass kept pace with her throughout, even serving on occasion as a genial playmate.

With alacrity Mason transported us back to the “joy of leaving books behind,” which students felt each year at the end of June. Her playfulness almost belied the serious nature of what she was presenting. Her sleek frame allowed her to dramatically punctuate a lyric with a quick twitch of her shoulder or hip. It seemed as though every corpuscle in her body was working overtime to give the audience an unforgettable performance that confirmed her love for the songs and the audience. When she closed the show, she entreated the audience to “take care of yourselves, and each other” with such forceful sincerity that one felt compelled to do just that. So ended a wistful non-psychedelic trip back to youth—and “feelin’ grooooovy!”

Karen Mason has honed her craft to utter perfection, and she surprises her audience each time. She conveys her warmth and sincerity keenly and seemingly effortlessly. If she were singing Polynesian folksongs in Chinese, I would go, just to savor her magic again.