These are a series of reflections on moments in life, shared from time to time, through out the year.
21 July 2006
As Time Goes By
One thing I
love about Arthur is that he makes, no that's too strong, he opens me up
to possibilities I might not have explored. This one involves someone with
whom I was already acquainted, but that was expanded by Arthur's curiosity.
Sometime around 1988, or so, I went to see a production of Saint
Joan by Shaw at the American Conservatory
Theater. Our Joan that evening was Andrea
Marcovicci, and for some reason I was enthralled with her. I didn't
know it at the time but a couple of years earlier in 1986, she began singing
cabaret in the Plush Room
in San Francisco. I had been introduced to cabaret by my then partner Rich
Hatcher, and we used to love to go hear Samantha
Samuels at the old Trinity Place, now replaced by a residential high
rise. There was something that struck me about this kind of singing - which
at that time seemed distant and almost unapproachable.
Earlier this week, Arthur called me and said, "Do you want to go hear Andrea Marcovicci on Friday." He knew the answer - I did. And as I listened to her this evening, and reflected on how I became a fan of this music and of her in particular. In the early nineties, Arthur was still on the board of Theater Rhinoceros, and we were invited to a fund raiser at The Great American Music Hall. Our relationship was quite new, and as we sat in a front row, there was a great deal of hand-holding, and long silent looks. This continued as Andrea spun out a web of romantic songs, with her my-eyes-are-looking-into-your-eyes look that thoroughly engages you. Later in the evening, at a reception at the plush room, there was an opportunity to meet her, and to have her autograph a poster. We bought a poster, and asked her to sign it, which she did. She wrote: "To the most romantic of couples!" Now she was bound into my personal history.
When she is in town, we try to go hear and see her. It is not a matter of loyalty, but rather of wanting to get into her stream of memory and song. Someone has labeled her the "chatty chanteuse", and that is what is so charming and engaging about her. Each song is song in the context of world or national events, or of her own personal events. Or, she evokes in your own mind your own personal history, neatly attaching the song to the experience. More than chat, she dances and moves. I remarked to Arthur, this evening, that she must have studied dance. It seems, at least to me, evident in the movements she makes, how she forms her hands, how she extends an arm. Indeed, one evening, she actually pulled Arthur up to the stage and danced with him ("She's a very strong follow", Arthur said afterward) as she sang her song. The audience is always pulled in, captivated, involved, allowed to participate. It's all quite lovely.
My own personal experience
was one evening when she was performing songs by Cole Porter. Engaging the
audience, Andrea asked, "What do you think of when you think of Cole
Porter." I immediately thought of the revival of Anything Goes,
at the New York State Theater in the late '70s, with Patti Lupone. My friend
Barton Sheffield, and other friends went up to see it. This evening, however,
I couldn't remember the name of the play. "Surely I'll remember it
if she calls on me", I thought. When she did see my hand up, I blurted
out, "Patty Lupone!" To which the lovely Andrea Marcovicci replied,
"You bitch!" The audience roared. The next day I told it to Jane
Moyer, a member at St. Francis, who said, "Oh, that was you!"
"Andrea told the whole audience about it at the performance we attended!"
(My fifteen minutes of fame). Later, after the performance, as I walked
across the hotel lobby, Andrea called out to me - "I figured it out!"
and we had a good laugh about it.
She is a performer who loves to dazzle her audience. One evening as she sang, "I'm puttin' on my top hat...", while actually tying (without benefit of mirror) a white pique tie. Every man in the audience was consumed with jealousy - and she delighted in it.
Once my good friend Paul Guttry and I were talking about Kurt Weill. He particularly liked a recording of Weill songs by Fredrika von Stade. I didn't care for it much. It didn't have that gritty quality that we expect from Weill, and from those who attempt to sing Weill. She certainly didn't sound like a Lotte Lenya. I much prefer Ute Lemperer, who really digs into Weill. I feel much the same way about Andrea Marcovicci. These are not performances about perfection. There is a wild and stormy vibrato that animates her voice, and she sings slightly off key. But who cares...these are songs and performances that center around life and living.
What is it about
cabaret, and what is it about Ms. Marcovicci? I think it's about love, but
really more about memory. This song styling drags memories from the recesses
of your mind and brings them out front and center. They might be about love,
or children, or emotions, or crises, or about loss. Each, however, evokes
our own personal memory, and links it to the memory and history of song.
Andrea sings songs, but she really sings our own personal histories. She
literally glitters, and at the same time is so wonderfully human. One time
we did go to hear a Patti Lupone at the Plush Room. There were wonderful
songs, and there was power, but there was no shared memory.
I'll keep going back to hear Andrea. By the way, this evening, she passed out gardenias! What a woman!
MTH 7?21/06