Anticipation in The Metropolitan Room on Sunday night is demonstrably electric. Critics talk shop, singers hug, strangers sharing tables share past experience of the entertainers. Michele Brourman sits at the piano, Amanda McBroom takes center stage, and the crowd goes wild. (I’ve always wanted to write that). McBroom crosses herself launching into “Strange Days” (Amanda McBroom/ Michele Brourman), a song they apparently wrote 3 days ago. It’s apt, smart, dark, and subversively funny. People laugh out loud-that kind of funny.
“These are strange days for a professional Pollyanna like me,” comments McBroom, “when it’s difficult to get out of bed and put your feet down…” leads into Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Cockeyed Optimist.” Every word of the plain spoken, celebratory lyric is believable. McBroom looks into the eyes of audience members focusing now on one, now on another. She positively bubbles. Warm, pithy observations of the ladies’ time exploring New York are shared. (They are both based in Los Angeles).
“I get a lot of my inspiration for songs from the newspaper,” she explains. “The Letter” (Amanda McBroom) seems at face value to be the kind of sweet, waltzy, straight-from-the-hip country song that lives forever. Never make assumptions with McBroom. The number’s completely unexpected payoff is simply hysterical, more so for its unvarnished truth. Provocation for “Wheels,” (Amanda McBroom), was the obituary of a 1920’s starlet who died on the street. The song begins with sweeping piano rolls, builds to exhilaration, slows to grim, poignant awareness, then rises again to flight—a signature structure of Jacques Brel. Brourman’s arrangement is lush, beautiful and immensely effective. As is McBroom’s vocal facility—moving seamlessly from open throated buoyancy to husky restraint.
Apropos of Occupy Wall Street, an article in The New York Times recently asked: Where are all the new protest songs? (I read it myself). “Well, we have one!” McBroom cheerfully volunteers, regaling us with “Voter’s Prayer.” (Amanda McBroom/ Michele Brourman) “Dear Senator, Dear Congressman,” it begins in tango tempo, followed by a wickedly funny, distinctively McBroom zinger and lyrics as clever and snarky as the column of New York Times editorialist, Gail Collins (whom I think of as the second coming). “One of Those Days” (Amanda McBroom/Michele Brourman) is another of those songs. “I’m out of estrogen, I’ve got a gun and it’s loaded,” she snaps. The inflection is Mae West, the sentiments spot-on, the melody a sassy bump n’grind.
A wonderfully paired medley of the bizarrely gothic “Demon Lover” (Michael Smith) and “Old Black Magic” (Harold Arlen/Johnny Mercer) is McBroom’s “holiday song,” the holiday being Halloween. She sits perfectly straight on a stool, hands in her lap, palms up, fingers moving slightly, every bit of focus poured into storytelling. The same artful craft is applied to “Crimes of the Heart,” a modern day torch song and “Portrait” a daughter’s cry in the dark to her mother (both Amanda McBroom). These couldn’t be more different in tenor than what preceded them. The range of successful material is exceptional.
Towards the end of program, we’re treated to a full-out version of the iconic “The Man That Got Away” (Harold Arlen/Ira Gershwin) because it scares the singer. Brourman rocks back and forth at the piano, eyes closed, her shoulders hunched as McBroom delivers the goods. Also included is perhaps the best rendition of Jacques Brel’s “Carousel” I’ve ever been privileged to see and hear. The journey from Brourman’s halting music box accompaniment and McBroom’s wide-eyed, innocent glee to the tsunami of galvanizing melody and wrenching, raw vocals is thrilling.
If you haven’t heard “The Rose,” (Amanda McBroom) you’ve been living under a rock since 1979. Get a hold of a copy immediately. “Just in Case,” a lovely song by McBroom and Portia Nelson in its first public airing, is followed by “Stand By Me” a tribute to the late, Jerry Lieber; pristine and meaningful in its performance, deserved in its staying power.
Ninety minutes has sped by. The audience is on its feet. We’ve been to a five star banquet and are stuffed crazy with heartfelt appreciation. This is an impeccable program. McBroom’s natural stage authority does nothing to diminish her accessibility. Her seasoned contralto is heady and keenly controlled, her communication skills protean, her writing a delight. Even the patter is lively and charming. Brourman’s melodies and arrangements are sumptuous, varied, and as fitting as skin. Sybaritic flourishes and accomplished hands rule her instrument. Back-up vocals add texture and harmony. The ladies are a symbiosis of extraordinary talent. This is how it’s done!
Top and center photos of Amanda McBroom by Maryann Lopinto
Michele Brourman’s photo Barry/Jazzography
Strange Days
Amanda McBroom, Vocals
Michele Brourman, Piano, Musical Director
The Metropolitan Room
34 West 22nd St.
212-206-0440
October 26, 27, 30, 2011
