We Know, We Know...

...we're terribly behind schedule, darlings. 

But...well...we've been busy.

Happy 2015, Darlings!

We will be back with our regularly scheduled programming soon, darlings; it's just been a whirlwind of activity and holiday cheer of late. Of course, as has been tradition for the past few years, we rang in 2015 with the ever-wondrous Marilyn Maye (pictured with us above, and our dear friend and fellow uber-fan, Drew, on the left) at The Metropolitan Room.

La Maye continues the party, starting tonight, with another seven shows this week and next; we'll be at every performance except Sunday's, so do drop by to join the spellbound acolytes and say hello if you do! Happy 2015, and may the new year bring all of you nothing but health, happiness, and fabulosity!



Tickets for Marilyn Maye at The Metropolitan Room HERE.

Amayezing

Marvelous Marilyn Maye and her brilliant musical director, Tedd Firth

What do you get when you perfectly blend Kay Thompson's wildly clever wordplay and tempo-changing fearlessness; Peggy Lee's precise attention to every detail of lighting and presentation; Julie Wilson's sly rapport with the audience; the interpretive wisdom of Sylvia Syms; the chiffon-and-shot-silk huskiness of Rosemary Clooney; Doris Day's immediacy, Ella Fitzgerald's swing, and Judy Garland's throb? You get the complete nightclub performer, one who ultimately renders all comparisons moot because she is uniquely Miss Marilyn Maye.

Having witnessed Miss Maye's triumphant closing night performance at The Metropolitan Room yesterday (read our recap of her Sunday night show here), we are now sated but weary: from chafing our hands raw from clapping; from running our vocal cords ragged from cheering.

Never one to rest on her laurels, Miss Maye continually delights and astounds. We've seen this current show, "Her Kind of Broadway," four times -- and each experience is a surprise. The four songs which form the emotional core of a show with a higher ratio of upbeat swingers are the radiantly hopeful "Ribbons Down My Back," the bruised "I'm Thru with Love," the wistful "Joey, Joey, Joey" and the naked "Losing My Mind." Miss Maye devastates the audience with these numbers each and every time, but the interpretation is constantly evolving. One night, "Losing My Mind" might seem rueful, the next painfully desperate. "Joey, Joey, Joey" might evoke the title character's wandering soul one night; another, the quiet longing of one special "lady in the neighborhood" who cannot tie him down. "Ribbons" and "I'm Thru with Love" seem to always come from the same place in Maye's interpretive soul, but a flick of a phrase here, a switch in emphasis there, and the same song sounds entirely different from the previous performance.

We realize that we're cheerleading here, but Marilyn Maye is the one ticket in town which we will always vouch for with the utmost confidence. She's making an rare, unscheduled return on December 13, again at The Metropolitan Room, in a one night only holiday-themed show. If you haven't seen her yet, we can think of no better Christmas present to give yourself!

Maye in December

The unsinkable Marilyn Maye is back in New York with a show called "Her Kind of Broadway," chock-a-block with emphatically upbeat Broadway show stoppers, performed with a trio of musicians at the very intimate Metropolitan Room cabaret. It shouldn't work, but it does.

Broadway and cabaret have an uneasy alliance -- although some of the material may overlap, traditionally, the Broadway-style performer is all about razzle dazzle showmanship, brassy belting and the full frontal attack; whereas cabaret is more intimate, sometimes precious, and allows the singer to delve deeper into the subtext of a song.

It's this essential difference in approach that causes most Broadway-themed cabaret acts to misfire: either the arrangements and the playing of the musicians can't compensate for the lack of the 40-piece orchestra that many of these songs seem to require, or the singer belts as if playing to the balcony -- which may work at the Shubert, but when the tiny room doesn't even have a balcony, the audience is simply flattened against the wall. Miss Maye's trio (led by the ever-astonishing Tedd Firth) made the Metropolitan swing so hard that even a full brass and string section couldn't possibly have been anything more than superfluous; and while Miss Maye herself let loose with the kind of belting that made every show tune queen in the house alternately turn green with envy and start swooning with delight, it was never at the sacrifice of her warm, intimate connection with the audience. We can think of no other performer who can bridge the gap between Broadway and cabaret so seamlessly, satisfying both crowds equally.

This 82 year old dynamo comes on like a tornado right from the start, opening with a sizzling arrangement of "Put on a Happy Face" from Bye Bye Birdie. As performed in the show, it's a cute, perky number which comes perilously close to taking its lyrics so literally that it can sound like a nursery rhyme. In Marilyn Maye's hands, it's almost defiantly upbeat, raucous, intense -- a command, rather than a suggestion. If the power of positive thinking will result in our looking, sounding and high-kicking as spectacular as Miss Maye when we're in our eighth decade, we'll gladly follow any directions she gives us.

Maye's hearty optimism and full-throated style are ideally suited to the music of Jerry Herman, so it's no surprise that she has essayed the role of Dolly Levi countless times on stage -- although, as she admits, never actually on Broadway. Listening to her poignant take on "Ribbons Down My Back," or watching her slyly camp her way through "Elegance," one wonders how the Great White Way powers-that-be possibly overlooked Maye for a starring vehicle on Broadway.

Frank Loesser, who would have celebrated his centennial this year, is treated to a lengthy clutch of songs from Guys and Dolls and The Most Happy Fella. "Luck Be a Lady," from the former, is effectively wrenched from Sinatra's singular hold -- no mean feat, that! From the latter, a haunting "Joey, Joey, Joey" was a master class in painting pictures through words: as Maye sang, you could positively smell the Oregon cherries, Texas avocado, and Arizona sugar beets.

Nearly every number was a bona fide crowd pleaser, but perhaps no segment was more disarming and delightful than a string of songs which Maye recorded for RCA in the 1960's, before the Broadway shows they were written for had opened. "Cabaret" was a major Adult Contemporary hit for Maye back in 1966, not only before the show opened, but long before you-know-who starred in the film version. "She knows it's really mine," Maye wryly remarked; and you got the feeling she was only half-joking! Similarly, "I'll Never Fall in Love Again" was written for the score of Burt Bacharach and Hal David's Broadway bow, Promises, Promises, before becoming a hit for "that Warwick girl," as Maye commented dismissively in jest; and, yes, Maye got there first. "Sherry" was the title song to an ill-fated musical version of The Man Who Came to Dinner; the show was a flop, but the single was another turntable hit for Maye, and an utterly charming one, at that. Capping things off was the flag-waving "Step to the Rear," an unrelentingly celebratory number from another obscure show, How Now, Dow Jones; it was another Adult Contemporary hit for Maye, but more important, was picked up as a commercial for Lincoln-Mercury for four, lucrative, residual-earning years! Maye began the song straight, then treated us to the re-written jingle lyrics.

The emotional highlight of the program was undoubtedly Maye's gut-wrenching interpretation of Sondheim's "Losing My Mind" from Follies. For all of her sunny optimism, Maye is no Pollyanna; her determination to focus on the positive comes from understanding the reality of life, not being blind to it. And when she sings of loss and heartbreak, the effect is absolutely devastating. Also from Follies, albeit from a completely different character and motivation, is the warhorse, "I'm Still Here" -- de rigeur in any cabaret act performed by a female of A Certain Age. Frankly, we thought we could live another hundred years without ever hearing anyone try to tackle this song again; it's become such a cliche. When Bea Arthur did her one woman show on Broadway a few years back, she pointedly informed the audience that she would not be singing "I'm Still Here"! But, ah, the magic of Maye -- she can make almost any song not only sound better than ever, but also fresh and new and exciting. Marilyn Maye can now claim to completely own "I'm Still Here" -- just as she owned it at Stephen Sondheim's 80th birthday celebration at Carnegie Hall a few weeks back, when Maye brought the house down and was received ecstatically by the audience with a thunderous ovation.

Of course, the final number was another Jerry Herman chestnut, "It's Today" from Mame, which finds Maye not only exhorting the crowd to "live life all the way," but also indulging in high kicks that a Rockette would envy. It was a thrilling, 90 minute whirlwind of an evening, and better than most of the actual shows on Broadway today! Adding to our excitement was being seated next to one of Miss Maye's most loyal fans, Freeman Gunter, who has been following the great lady's career since the mid-1960's. Freeman was kind enough to share this utterly fabulous photo, taken backstage during Marilyn's engagement at the Shoreham Hotel in Washington, D.C., circa 1967. We want his tie, and her caftan!


And, coming full circle, last night at the Metropolitan, Miss Maye gave a slightly-less-hirsute Freeman the souvenir of a lifetime:


The marvelous Marilyn Maye is packing them in for just one more night, December 7, at 7:00 p.m. We hope we'll see you there!

The Unsinkable Tammy Grimes

Tammy Grimes is nothing if not a fascinating mass of contradictions: with her affected, pseudo-British rasp and highly theatrical looks, she has always seemed the epitome of camp; yet her total belief in the persona that she has created for herself lends gravitas and weight to everything that she does. She's elegant, bawdy, ethereal, gutsy, imperious, earthy, vampy, sophisticated, brash and vulnerable in equal, wonderful measures.

In her new show at The Metropolitan Room, "Miss Tammy Grimes: Favorite Songs and Stories," the emphasis, albeit not necessarily intentionally, is on the vulnerable side of Miss Grimes' outsized personality. At 76, Grimes' famously throaty voice is no longer the flexible instrument it once was; and the still-imposing diva, in spite of her patrician profile, upswept blonde locks, and diaphanous Chanel gown, displays an oddly endearing case of stage jitters, nervously fingering her pearls one second, shaking madly the next.

It could have been a train wreck: dropped lyrics; "stories" which were literally read from a script - and which a somewhat-addled Grimes sometimes put before or after the wrong accompanying song; and those aforementioned stage jitters preventing Grimes from making eye contact with the audience from The Metropolitan's almost painfully intimate stage.

And yet, as a whole, the evening worked - sometimes beautifully. After a shaky opening of "Rose of Washington Square" (which was featured on her eponymous debut album in 1962), Grimes kicked things into high gear with an expert "Ring Them Bells," on which her comic timing truly shone, and made you forget all about Liza Minnelli. A surprise offering was Tom Waits' "Martha," which Grimes turned into a spellbinding tour de force of regret, longing and quiet desperation. It was easily the best performance of the evening.

Other highlights included a poignant reading of "How Deep is the Ocean," dedicated to her late husband, composer Richard Bell, who passed away in 2005; the very funny parable "The Snake"; Cole Porter's hilarious "Tale of the Oyster," perfectly suited to Grimes' madcap personality; "More Than One Man in My Life," from Grimes' Obie-winning performance in the off-Broadway Mademoiselle Colombe; and heart-wrenching interpretations of Noel Coward's "Someday I'll Find You," "I'll See You Again" and "If Love Were All." Of course, the number which elicited the greatest applause was "Home Sweet Heaven," Grimes' show stopper from High Spirits - the musical version of Coward's Blithe Spirit, which he directed.

But the song which pointed up both the tragedy and triumph of this uneven, yet moving and ultimately wonderful evening, was Kurt Weill's "Pirate Jenny" from The Threepenny Opera. During this complex, lengthy, demanding song, Grimes repeatedly either went up in her lyrics or blanked out completely, becoming visibly upset and disoriented, murmuring her apologies to the audience; and, still, she soldiered through the entire song, and when she got it right, the effect was hair-raising, thrilling, brilliant. It was the cabaret equivalent of watching an aging prima ballerina called upon to execute an impossibly tricky Pièce de résistance, barely making her landings, but somehow still conveying all of her grace and dignity and artistry.

By the time Grimes finished roaring through a purposefully defiant "I Ain't Down Yet" (from her Tony-winning turn in The Unsinkable Molly Brown), it was clear that this indomitable survivor wasn't going to let a few muffed lyrics or a case of stage fright keep her from performing. Tammy Grimes is one of the last of the true show-must-go-on troupers from the golden age of Broadway and cabaret - and when she and her few still-standing peers are gone, there will be no one to take their place. Frankly, we'd rather see a few flashes of true brilliance from a legend than a thoroughly competent, completely ineffectual night of warbling by an American Idol-honed novice. As Miss Grimes herself sang in another number from High Spirits: "Tomorrow I may disappear." So if you think fondly of her, you'd better love her while you may, warts and all.

Miss Tammy Grimes performs at The Metropolitan Room through Wednesday evening.

SSUWAT Endorses...

If, like us, you are a humble plebe who can't escape to the Hamptons or Fire Island or the country during the summer weekends, and are stuck for ideas on what to do in town, here are some of our favorite haunts.

Favorite Restaurant: Il Corso, 54 W. 55th St., (212) 957-1500.


Hands down, our absolute favorite Italian in the city, and possibly our favorite restaurant outside of Italy itself. Chef Andrea Giacomoni is absolutely brilliant at producing meals which are casually elegant yet homey, soul-satisfying, and above all, savory. Yes, you could have a fine meal if you stick within the safety zone of, say, a richly creamy burrata with prosciutto; a toothsome tangle of homemade fettucine a la bolognese; or a perfectly crisp-on-the-outside, moist-on-the-inside veal Milanese. But the specials are uniformly spectacular, and if Chef Andrea is offering braised, stewed, or pan-roasted lamb, veal or pork, it is not to be missed. We are not overstating our case when we say that some of our best, most richly rewarding meals have been at the hands of Chef Andrea. Our current favorite: an antipasti of delicately fried mushrooms (light and crackling good - the mark of a good chef, in our opinion, is their ability to fry properly; the result should be sprightly and crisp, not heavy and sodden) followed by Andrea's heroic pan seared double pork chop. This remarkable cut of meat is, without question, the juiciest, best-prepared pork we have ever had. Period. The quality/cost ratio is excellent; the staff will do backflips to please you; the ambiance is cozy and completely outside of trends; and regulars (like us) are there every single night. Oh, and Il Corso's coffee is the best and strongest in town.

Favorite Bar: The Modern at MOMA, 9 W. 53rd St., 212.333.1220.


When you want to avoid the model wannabe/hedge fund a**hole crowd, but still crave a chic, sleek scene, The Modern is the perfect destination. It's a truly adult experience, with a sophisticated, well-heeled, well-polished crowd who have better things to do than dance on banquettes and throw up in their town cars. As befits a bar/restaurant located in the Museum of Modern Art, the space is cutting-edge, but the service is friendly and unpretentious. Dinner in the Bar Room is casual, lively and cool; the Dining Room is a serene oasis from the glamorous chaos up front. And the bar itself serves up one hell of a martini: ice cold, generously proportioned (but not ridiculously so), crystal clear, expertly mixed. In addition, considering the quality and the scene factor, the price tag is low indeed: a top-shelf martini runs around $14, compared to the $20 and up that the King Cole Bar or Four Seasons will stick you for. Another plus: the "speciality cocktail" list isn't full of nauseatingly sweet concoctions aimed at Paris Hiltonettes.

Favorite Shop: Seigo Neckwear, 747 Third Ave., (212) 308-3008.


Without a doubt, Seigo is a bow tie lover's wet dream come true. The sheer amount of heart-stoppingly gorgeous, handmade, limited edition ties to choose from is staggering, and almost overwhelming. We've learned that one must enter Seigo with a purpose and a plan: a certain color scheme, say, or a specific pattern; simple browsing simply won't cut it, with all the choices available. Seigo also sells regular neckties, as well as simply beautiful pocket squares, handkerchiefs, and ascots. Seigo Katsuragawa handcrafts each piece from kimono silk, giving his ties a unique sheen and texture. The colors are mouth-watering, the charming Japanese salesgirls are unwaveringly polite and friendly, and the cost? Around $50 for a bow tie, $45 for a pocket square. Much less than what you'd spend at Paul Stuart, and about the same as what you'd pay for a factory-made, mass-produced product at Brooks Brothers. If only we'd discovered Seigo sooner...

Favorite Entertainment Venue: The Metropolitan Room, 34 W. 22nd St., (212) 206-0440.


With Bobby Short and Eartha Kitt returned to Fabulon, there is very little reason to sell a kidney in order to afford a night at the Cafe Carlyle. With few exceptions, Feinstein's is no better, and often (in terms of service) worse. Which makes The Metropolitan such a breath of fresh air. Showcasing top talent like Marilyn Maye, Julie Wilson, Tammy Grimes and Annie Ross, as well as the cream of the rising cabaret upstarts, The Metropolitan also boasts a truly music-savvy audience. Unlike the Carlyle and Feinstein's, where high rollers attend shows simply to flaunt their bankroll, The Metropolitan attracts a crowd who knows their stuff, and appreciates the performers. Seating can get cramped at the communal tables, but hey, you'll always make new friends with your neighbors. Service can sometimes be on the slow side, but invariably sweet and well-intentioned. Even better, the cover charge hovers around $25-45, depending on the star perfomer, with a two drink minimum. It's very possible to have a fabulous night of entertainment here for two, and spend only around $75 total.

Favorite Theatre: The Walter Reade Theatre, 165 W. 65th St. (upper level), (212) 875-5601.


The Film Society at Lincoln Center presents its movies in a spacious, comfortable, clean space, and on an absolutely gorgeous big screen. Many of their revivals are studio prints, all the better to revel in their Technicolor/CinemaScope glory. This summer alone, we've seen glorious screenings of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, The King and I, and Inside Daisy Clover; and we're seeing Gypsy and West Side Story this weekend. Frankly, that's our idea of a grand, gay time on the weekend, rather than X-ing it up with les boys out on the Pines.