“…Santa never writes back…” sings Mary Liz McNamara in a smoky, pissed off, backroom voice accompanied by Ritt Henn’s simmering bass. “Ain’t that just like a man/he’s in, he’s out/it’s over so quick/just like a man/so like a man…” (“A Cautionary Christmas Tale”—McNamara & Henn) Henn’s vocal back-up offers texture. She has a strong, clear contralto, he a hip, husky bass. It’s a modern day torch song, all the funnier for deadpan delivery and traditional tone.
McNamara and Henn offer the dry, dark wit and camaraderie that characterized Nichols and May.* Add infectious vivacity, multifaceted musical skills and stir. Songwriters separately and together, they both also play: McNamara piano and bass, Henn ukulele and bass. Both act the lyrics. McNamara shades towards musical theater/storytelling while Henn embodies freewheeling jazz. Take That is a smorgasbord of their work.
Henn plucks, slaps, and taps his bass doubling on percussion, a visible embodiment of grooving. “Speak of the devil, you’re back again,” McNamara sings from the piano. (“Speak of the Devil”—McNamara & Henn) The unvarnished emotion wrapped in a soft rock arrangement could easily pass as blues. “That’s a downer,” comments McNamara, “give’m a break.” And she does.
“The Organ Grinder on the Metroliner “(“Mike’s Monkey Song”—McNamara) is artfully goofy. A single mother thrown back on her own resources supports two children and a monkey “…singing songs from New York to D.C./just an organ, a monkey and me… whoa, whoa, whoa…” (I’d love to know the inspiration for this one.) A shaken bag of pretzels stands in for a maraca. Eyebrows around the room come to points. Funky rhythm coupled with the performer’s innocent expression is just off kilter enough.
Next comes the country swing sound of “Fear “(Henn). Demonstrating his best woman-eating grin while denying fear of commitment, Henn sings and whistles, “It takes a happy man to whistle,” as McNamara calls him names. We’ve all known this guy.
Numbers encompass a range of musical genres; lyrics are straight from the hip. McNamara’s Shaweeta, from a musical she’s authored, is sort of a sassy scat song. The story premise eludes me, but her acting—first lost, then exhilarated—is super, vocals conjure octaves at a playground, interaction between the partners is engaging, and the musicianship shows brio. Both the waltzy lullaby “Don’t Forget I Love You” (McNamara & Henn) and “The Good Girl” (McNamara) are understated, touching, and true. The former would sound at home in the Grand Ole Opry while the latter evokes Sondheim.
For the money at my predominantly woman-filled table, McNamara’s “My Boyfriend Lou” is a highpoint. The suggestive lyric is a slam dunk for her comedic skills, the sentiments worthy of Dorothy Parker.
Only McNamara’s “Tell Me” and Henn’s “Union Square” don’t hold up against other choices. The duo is clever, original, and fun. They bounce off one another with unrehearsed affection. Songs are by and large grand, but sometimes frustratingly slight. Almost all would benefit from at least one additional verse. A bright, entertaining show. Who can argue with the marriage of rhythm and laughter? Watch for it!
*Elaine May and Mike Nichols were a comedy team in the early sixties
Photos: Michael Codispoti
Take That! Tunes by McNamara & Henn
Words and Music by Mary Liz McNamara and/or Ritt Henn
The Duplex
61 Christopher Street
