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Duke-ing It Out
By Marc Miller
Theatermania
August 16, 2005
"If you feel like singing, sing,"
goes an ancient Judy Garland ditty -- and that fairly well
sums up the performance style of Klea Blackhurst, one of the
most valuable artists on today's cabaret scene. Whereas the
rest of the pack so often intellectualizes the Great American
Songbook, going in for unwieldy tune pairings, elaborately
unfaithful arrangements, and ironies that aren't there, Blackhurst
upholds an earlier, simpler aesthetic.
Like Ethel Merman, whom she cites as an inspiration and whom
she has saluted in previous cabaret shows and CDs, Blackhurst
tends to plant her feet and belt out optimistic sentiments.
She has a big, siren-like contralto and a plain-Jane Utah
accent. She can do the ironic, bitter, flog-the-subtext thing
expertly when she wants to but, unlike so many of her contemporaries,
irony isn't her default mode. I'd place her persona closer
to Doris Day's than the Merm's; in fact, I think the producers
of the upcoming Pajama Game revival need look no
further than Blackhurst for their Babe.
On her new CD Autumn in New York: Vernon Duke's Broadway
(Ghostlight Records), the program of which was also the basis
of a recent cabaret engagement, Blackhurst takes a detour
from her usual repertoire. The Broadway composer Vernon Duke
(1903-1969) never had a hit musical; the closest he got was
1940's Cabin in the Sky. And while he could write
straightforward show tunes, his leanings toward rangy songs
with odd harmonies and unusual construction may be one reason
for his lack of popular success.
A Russian intellectual with ample classical training -- under
his real name, Vladimir Dukelsky, he had a productive parallel
career turning out sonatas, ballets, art songs, and concerti
-- Duke often steered clear of standard Broadway fare. Yet
George Gershwin championed him early on, and the two formed
a mutual admiration society. (The 17-year-old Duke was mesmerized
by Gershwin's "Swanee," which closes out the CD.
As Blackhurst writes in her own, well-researched notes, "I
cannot begin to tell you much I love the image of a teenager
getting high on 'Swanee.' ")
Duke's career was one of failed promise and frustration. Though
he collaborated with the likes of Ogden Nash, Ira Gershwin,
Howard Dietz, and John Latouche, Duke had no steady lyricist.
He was plagued by divas who couldn't sing his songs (Bette
Davis in Two's Company), stars who closed would-be
hits prematurely (Eddie Cantor shut down Banjo Eyes
because he couldn't take the New York winter), and big-name
temperament (Merman walked out five days into rehearsals of
Sadie Thompson because she considered Dietz's lyrics too dirty),
not to mention bad timing (Zenda has some fascinating music
but swashbuckling operetta was on life support by 1963) and
bad books (Jackpot, The Lady Comes Across).
As a result, admirers of Duke's output haven't found much
to savor on disc. Decca Broadway did preserve the City Center
Encores! revival of Ziegfeld Follies of 1936 a few
seasons back, and it's a revelation. Dawn Upshaw Sings
Vernon Duke (Nonesuch) has some choice cuts. The cast
recording of the gratingly sung Off-Broadway revival of Cabin
in the Sky, out of print on Capitol, doesn't begin to
do that seminal score justice. There's the old Ben Bagley
album Vernon Duke Revisited on Painted Smiles, but
it's fatally compromised by Bagley's customarily campy treatment
and nasal vocals by some strange guest artists. (Joan Rivers?)
So into the void steps Blackhurst, serving up a thoughtful
collection of Duke standards, semi-standards, and obscurities.
An eight-piece band is led by Michael Rice, whose arrangements
include some needless apostrophizing, but Blackhurst's engaging
artistry shines through. She comes out swinging with "Not
a Care in the World" and it's a lovely, simple interpretation
of this upbeat Latouche lyric -- Blackhurst at her best. She's
a natural when expressing regret in "I Can't Get Started";
just listen to the deep longing she brings to the line "Scheme
/ Just for a sight of you." If she's a little baffled
by E.Y. Harburg's playful, almost Dadaist lyrics to "I
Like the Likes of You," she makes up for it with an elegant
"April in Paris." Duke's other great-time-great-place
classic, "Autumn in New York" (with his own lyrics,
suggesting that he was no slouch as a wordsmith) is even better
thanks to Price's suave, unfussy arrangement. "Taking
a Chance on Love" is also wonderful, its casual intro
modeled on that of Ethel Waters' rendition in the movie version.
But Duke fans will be most grateful for the non-standard stuff.
Blackhurst shows particular sensitivity in two items from
Sadie Thompson: "Poor as a Churchmouse"
is a fine character-establishing number in which Blackhurst
projects more warmth and nonchalance than Merman might have
offered; and "Sailing at Midnight" is a real find,
a soft rumba with some of the most bizarre chords Duke or
anyone else ever bequeathed to Broadway. Dancing in the
Streets, also with lyrics by Dietz, was yet another piece
of Broadway roadkill -- even though Mary Martin passed up
Oklahoma! to do it. But the title song is a Cohan-like rouser
well-suited to Blackhurst. And "Indefinable Charm"
is another major rediscovery, a sophisticated foxtrot that
sounds like the bastard child of Cole Porter and Richard Rodgers.
I have just one complaint: At 12 tracks amounting to just
over 40 minutes in total length, this is a very compact compact
disc. There's so much more Duke to which one can imagine Blackhurst
bringing a fresh perspective: "Just Like a Man,"
which Davis brayed in Two's Company; "I Cling
to You," a pensive, little-known ballad that Duke wrote
for the late, great Hildegarde; and any number of songs from
Zenda, whose score survives only on a scratchy sound-system
tape. So c'mon, Klea -- hurry up and get started on Volume
2!
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