By Roy Sander

The Duplex - Every couple of months

In the long-running—it hit the airwaves in 1942!—BBC radio program Desert Island Discs, guests are asked to present their choice of the eight recordings they would take with them if they were stranded on a desert island. The guest explains the reasoning behind each selection, and the recording is played. If I were asked which cabaret artists I would want if that were my plight, I have no doubt that one of my eight choices would be twin brothers Robbie and Paul Rescigno, d.b.a The Rescignos. (You might say, hey, that should count as two choices, to which I would reply, get your own island!) 

For starters, one thing I should want if I were alone on a desert island is cheering up. No one better for the job than this musical comedy duo. Not only are these young men very funny, they project something more fundamentally cheery than laughter: a sense that life is a joy and our planet is a ball of cotton candy. I suppose there might be more yocks in a master comedian's stand-up routine, but I doubt there would be as much pure delight. These qualities come through equally in their musical numbers and their patter.

By Elizabeth Ahlfors

"The Billy Eckstine Project, Songs in the Key of 'B'"

Richard Malavet, a New York cabaret singer, certainly did his homework for his latest show, saluting Billy Eckstine. The music of the cool, dapper "Mr. B" is a fine choice for Malavet. He does not try to imitate Eckstine's memorable basso baritone and full vibrato, but Malavet has a smooth baritone voice of his own and a leaning toward jazz. He selects some memorable tunes from Eckstine's songbook and gives them his own spin of urbane Manhattan with a hint of the city's intrinsic pizzazz. I would like to see him let loose a little and evoke more of the familiar New York street energy that nurtured Malavet's musical talent. Although the crowded stage does not offer much space for swaying, we do get a hint of his Latino rhythm with a sensual rendition of Eckstine's biggest ballad hit, "Caravan," by Juan Tizol, Duke Ellington, and Irving Mills.

By Roy Sander

Toward the end of his show, Alan Cumming performs a song that one might be surprised to find in his repertoire: Marcy Heisler and Zina Goldrich's New York-cabaret standard "Taylor, the Latte Boy." This number is perhaps the most persuasive—and certainly the most appealing—illustration not only of Cumming's uniqueness, but also of his extraordinary interpretive talent. We all know how charming and funny the piece is, but we could be excused for thinking, "Yes, it's marvelous, but do I need to hear it yet again?" But then Cumming approaches the song gently, sweetly, and oh-so-winningly, and his rendition is funny, adorable, and ultimately touching. Damned if he didn't have me shedding happy tears. At "Taylor, the Latte Boy"! Who would have thought the old song to have had so much blood in it?

By Elizabeth Ahlfors

"Normal as Blueberry Pie – A Tribute to Doris Day"

Just wondering. Why, exactly did Nellie McKay choose to salute Doris Day? Many, not all, of the songs she's doing are identified with Doris Day, but McKay never explains why she chose them. Was she influenced by the legendary singer/actress? Was she inspired by the era, the films, the spirit, the warmth? McKay has previously said that she admires Day's talent, yet she doesn't talk about this in her show, which is called, after all, "…A Tribute to Doris Day." Just wondering.

That aside, singer, pianist and songwriter Nellie McKay is entertaining doing her unique thing, and I always look forward to seeing her. She seems like an amalgam of today and yesterday, pretty and blonde as a sunny afternoon, looking as innocent and ebullient as Doris Day in her Romance on the High Seas era. She is also as familiar as any Manhattan West Side girl taking her "adopted" pit bulls for a walk through Central Park.

By Roy Sander

Jaron Vesely has titled his new show after the Richard Rodgers song "Something Good." This is an understatement, for in every way—choice of material, programming/structure, vocal quality, interpretations, arrangements, instrumental accompaniment—the show is much better than merely good. He could have named it after the Rodgers & Hammerstein classic "Something Wonderful," but for the fact that the latter song isn't one of the evening's selections.

Vesely first came to our attention a few years ago as the baritone member of the über-delightful Fabulous Pink Flamingos. "Something Good," his second solo outing, has been directed by Russell Taylor, the antic wizard behind the FPF; it represents an enormous leap forward from his debut show last year.

By Roy Sander

"Razzle Dazzle! My Life Behind the Sequins"

After the band plays the overture, she makes her entrance from stage right. It is unmistakably her—Mitzi Gaynor—an icon whose name conjures up memories and images of Technicolor Hollywood and who triumphed on television in a series of highly successful annual specials. It is an inspired entrance and a thrilling moment. She then sings and dances "Honey Bun," and for a few minutes we're in the presence of twenty-something Nellie Forbush. A delicious start to an enormously entertaining evening.

By Roy Sander

"Miss Congeniality"

Several bars into Teresa Fischer's opening number, I knew I was in good hands. The song was the often-done Bob Dorough and Dave Frishberg's "I'm Hip," and though it's an appealing novelty number, I find the 45-years-old lyrics a bit dated and the song just not quite strong enough to sustain yet another hearing. Or so I thought. However, throughout the number, Fischer assumed such a look of unbridled cheerfulness and delight at being with-it, that her interpretation was like no other I'd seen, and she won me over completely—and she kept me won-over for the remainder of her show.

By Elizabeth Ahlfors

"River"

When you think of an interpretive singer, one name that stands out is Barb Jungr. Jungr not only studies the lyrics, but takes them apart to root out the substance that speaks to her. She then reconstructs them and makes them her own. She will surround her selection with humor and anecdotes that lead right into the next song, and then, caught up in the melody with a voice that can be strong and theatrical or gently heartbreaking, she brings a new depth and to her selection.

By Roy Sander

"Operation Adelmo"

At the top of the musical circus that is "Operation Adelmo," baritone Adelmo Guidarelli tells us that he is "aware of the fact that everyone hates opera." He then proclaims, without pause, irony, or apology, that he is going to sing opera. Which he does—in a way. It would have been more accurate for him to say that he's going to use opera as a hook on which to hang a mélange of jests, hi-jinx, and general merriment. It also would have been accurate to tell the audience that while they're not about to hear a lot of grand opera, they are about to have a grand time.

By Elizabeth Ahlfors

"What a Wonderful World"

Set Johnny Rodgers near a piano and Pow!, it's a concert, a vigorous, touching, enthusiastic musical mélange of Americana. From Memphis to St. Jo, with the snap of Chicago, easy Southern charm, New York energy and St. Louis rhythms—there's that crazy mixed-up American spirit and the multifaceted Johnny Rodgers to deliver it. With a smokin' band behind him, Rodgers is as home-grown as a pot roast dinner, adding some red-hot sauce just to spice things up.

By Elizabeth Ahlfors

"All of Me" 

For several years, this Minnesota country girl could have made the case that she possesses vocal confidence and horsepower second to none. In her recent engagement at Feinstein's at Loews Regency, Linda Eder proved her case once again. Added to her impressive pipes, she has a dramatic flair, building a song with tension and holding notes with the ease of an athlete. Accompanied by a robust quintet, Eder delivered some intriguing arrangements with little touches that turned the song subtly on its side. For example, the racing delivery of "Charade" (Henry Mancini and Johnny Mercer), with Peter Calo's versatile guitar, gave Eder's natural country/pop reading a unique mid-West/mid-European aura.

By Roy Sander

"Calendar Girl"

For some time now, Colleen McHugh has been appearing monthly at the Duplex, each time with a different show and a different theme. How's that for a daunting self-assignment? The umbrella title for the series is "Calendar Girl"—for obvious reasons. The edition I saw on March 25 was called "Being Green," and though I went with a bit of trepidation, I was delighted to see that green had nothing whatsoever to do with alternative energy, recycling, inadequate-flush toilets, or any of the other associations the color has had since it was appropriated for a political agenda. Rather, its references were of the old-fashioned variety: things Irish, money, jealousy, plants, frogs, etc. Some of the connections with green were a stretch, but McHugh is such fun, and the show was so jolly, what the hay?