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THE TWO OF CLUBS At the Oak Room right now through February 7th, the legendary Steve Ross is putting on perhaps the best show he is done in years. The new show, a tribute to Fred Astaire, doesn't have a clunker song in it. More to the point, every song in the show is a brilliant standard by the likes of Cole Porter, Johnny Mercer, The Gershwins, et al, made all the more engaging by Mr. Ross who even manages, through his interpretative genius, to make some of these songs seem absolutely brand new. Mr. Ross, who plays the piano and sings, is not often given credit for his amazing skills as a piano player. One might say that he is a brilliant accompanist for himself. Possessing a voice no more special than Fred Astaire's, Mr. Ross (like Astaire) makes every word count, but he uses his musicianship at the piano to bolster the emotional heft of his songs when his voice, alone, could never do so. Best of all, Steve Ross's patter is smart, sophisticated and funny. He sets up his songs so well that he's done most of his work before he even begins to sing. It's great having him back at the Oak Room, the room he re-opened approximately 30 years ago! Barbara and Scott Siegel, Talkin' Broadway, February 1, 2010
PUTTIN' ON THE RITZ: STEVE ROSS SINGS FRED ASTAIRE Steve Ross has panache to spare when he is "Puttin' On the Ritz." Twenty-nine years ago, he brought music back to the Oak Room at the Algonquin Hotel after its four-decade-long absence. He helped establish a standard of the best of the best, and he is currently performing the songs associated with Fred Astaire, an idol he has saluted before. Nobody does it better, so why not? Fred Astaire had taste, style, class, and on stage and screen, he put on the "Ritz" better than anyone. Ross possesses the same qualities, so he is the ideal person to remind us that "Puttin' On the Ritz" encompasses the elegance of intelligent and evocative lyrics, in impressive partnership with sophisticated piano arrangements. He begins the show off-stage and a cappella with Irving Berlin's "Let's Face the Music and Dance," meditative and foreboding. There is plenty of joy, rhythm and fun to come, but this opener indicates that Ross not only presents the songs with love and respect, but also with the depth that comes from study and understanding. In the flowing mystery of "Dancing in the Dark" (Howard Dietz and Arthur Schwartz), for example, he demonstrates the emotional underpinnings of foreshadowing. The complexity of the song is emphasized with his beautiful stress on the word "wonder," in the line "We're waltzing in the wonder of why we're here." Fred Astaire, who is said to have introduced more standards than any other performer, presented "Dancing in the Dark" in the stage production of The Bandwagon, repeating it in a memorable dance sequence with Cyd Charisse in the film version. As Ross mentions, Astaire began his dancing career with his sister, Adele, who later left the act to marry an English nobleman and live in Ireland. Ross reflects their era together with Irving Berlin's "The Ragtime Violin" and "When the Midnight Choo-Choo Leaves for Alabam'." He tells us that there was not really an Alabama-bound train that departed at midnight—it left at 12:19 AM—but that would make for an awkward song title. These two fetching tunes were performed by Astaire with Judy Garland in Easter Parade. With eloquent bass accompaniment by Brian Cassier, Ross has arranged over thirty songs into sections. He includes some of the most romantic songs. Not many can surpass these three in expressing love: George and Ira Gershwin's "They Can’t Take that Away from Me” with its air of resignation, "The Way You Look Tonight" (Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields), and Cole Porter's bittersweet "After You, Who?" Porter also wrote the song Steve Ross's parents courted to, "Night and Day." Admitting to being an Anglophile, like Astaire, Ross includes a London segment, with Porter's mischievous witty tale of the unsuccessful hostess, "Thank You So Much, Mrs. Lowsborough-Goodby.” He is driving and dauntless on piano with the multiple rhythms of "Fascinatin' Rhythm" and "Oh, Lady Be Good," both by George and Ira Gershwin. Irving Berlin's engaging "Let Yourself Go" and "Cheek to Cheek" are tantalizing. I was reminded that Astaire sang the appealing Bert Kalmar and Harold Ruby tune "Nevertheless (I'm in Love with You)" in Three Little Words when Ross chose it for his encore the night I attended. Debonair, dedicated and talented, Steve Ross demonstrates why cabaret still continues to endure. He is a reminder of why aficionados continue to support its promise and highest achievements. Elizabeth Ahlfors, Bistro Awards, January 27, 2010
PITTER-PATTER, AND PIANO, IN NOD TO FRED ASTAIRE “If I had to sum up western civilization in four words, they would be ‘Cole Porter’ and ‘Fred Astaire,’ ” Steve Ross declared on Wednesday evening at the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel. Well, maybe. Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers movies, with their lighthearted elegance, and casually sophisticated songs by Porter, Berlin, the Gershwins and the like certainly conjure a heady ideal of human behavior at its most romantically benign. But who would really want to swoop around a dance floor in top hat and tails every night? I take that back; Mr. Ross probably would. A singer and pianist and not a dancer, he is the personification of the bygone dream world that his music summons. Dapper and quick witted with a knowledge of his idols that suggests a lifetime of scholarship in an imaginary 90th-floor Park Avenue aerie, he channels their spirits in brittle, fleet performances whose quickened pace evokes ballroom dancing as a challenging aerobic sport. In his new show, “Puttin’ On the Ritz,” Mr. Ross, assisted on bass by Brian Cassier, focuses on Astaire, whom he has saluted many times in the past. No matter; it never gets old. The show interweaves biographical material that focuses on Astaire’s youthful partnership with his sister Adele and Astaire-identified standards that everyone of a certain age ought to know. The run-on format in which songs and patter flow continuously lends the show the musical mood of a serene dance marathon, if such a thing is possible. Mr. Ross’s sharply accented pianism, which often accelerates during uptempo numbers, belongs to a traditional New York saloon style associated with Cy Walter, piano bars and hotel orchestras. Precisely syncopated, it stands on the outer fringe of jazz. His dry, precisely enunciated singing doesn’t delve into the psychological murk of lyrics. (Porter’s are especially ripe for the picking.) But his subtle emphasis on a witty turn of phrase — the vocal equivalent of a raised eyebrow — makes each small gesture count. It’s finally about enjoyment, pure and simple. Outstanding moments on Wednesday included his intensely percussive “Fascinating Rhythm,” “Dancing in the Dark” (a song he compared to “On a Clear Day You Can See Forever” and “Lost in the Stars” in its metaphysical focus), the wistful Porter ballad, “After You, Who?” and “The Way You Look Tonight,” which he called “the most elegant love song ever written.” Steve Ross performs through Feb. 6 at the Oak Room at the Algonquin Hotel, 59 West 44th Street, Manhattan (212) 419-9331. Stephen Holden, The New York Times Music Review, January 21, 2010
STEVE ROSS: PUTTIN' ON THE RITZ It's impossible to replicate the unassuming, seemingly effortless singing style of Fred Astaire, whose vocals were generally seen as a byproduct of his dancing a necessary accompaniment to those painstakingly conceived steps in time. Cabaret legend Steve Ross can't dance -- don't ask him -- but he has an unassuming, effortless-seeming singing style of his own. His new act, "Puttin' on the Ritz," spins the Astaire songs into a magic web, his 10 fingers proving a suitable substitute for Fred's two feet. Astaire came along, out of Nebraska, at just the right time to personally benefit from the great American Songbook. As his career was about to take off, he befriended a similarly one-of-a-kind young composer named Gershwin. Their 1924 musical, "Lady Be Good," immediately and permanently established both Fred and George as top musical comedy talents. Astaire's increasing stardom quickly attracted projects and songs from Gershwin's worthy peers: Cole Porter, Irving Berlin and Jerome Kern. Frank Sinatra and Al Jolson might have been stronger singers, but they never had composers of this caliber writing songs to order. Ross weaves together a string of 32 songs in 70 minutes, all but three of them from Gershwin, Porter, Berlin, Kern or Arthur Schwartz. Some are combined in medleys, others stand alone. Many prompt anecdotes or observations, centering on Astaire and touching on the songwriters, the dance partners (especially sister Adele, initially thought to be the star of the act) and others. But it's in the singing that Ross gets us. He has a gentle vocal style, not unlike that of Astaire, and he sings from the heart. Fred, of course, had other things to attend to; once he had properly introduced the lyric, it was time to start dancing. Ross has plenty of songs to cram into the act, and he provides all the music at the keyboard (with able assistance from Brian Cassier on bass). But Ross also has carte blanche to stop the almost dizzying hit parade and immerse himself in some of these golden songs. "Fascinating Rhythm," "Puttin' on the Ritz," and "They All Laughed" are dazzling, boosted by the performer's pianistics. "Cheek to Cheek," mixed with "Let's Face the Music and Dance," is breathtakingly good. Best of all, perhaps, is Schwartz and Dietz's "Dancing in the Dark." This is a complex song, musically as well as lyrically; as Ross enters the introspective interlude, he seems to deconstruct the words and feeling, building to a grand and emotionally involving climax. Ross has been performing the songs of Astaire, and those of Gershwin, Porter, et al., for more than 30 years now; his obvious devotion to and love of the material is apparent. Steve Ross singing "Night and Day," framed by the oak-paneled wall of the famed Algonquin: What could be better, or more special, than that? Steven Suskin, Variety, January 20, 2010
STEVE ROSS DOES JUSTICE TO FRED ASTAIRE Just about every time Steve Ross finishes a number in his "Puttin' on the Ritz" salute to Fred Astaire in the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel (Jan. 19-Feb 6, 2010) he flashes a smile of satisfaction. It is an indication of how much he enjoys performing the songs that Astaire sung at one time or another, and as usual for this suave, skilled and pleasing cabaret star, he transfers his own pleasure to his audience. Ross is an icon who has raised the singer-pianist form of entertainment to the nth degree and his artistry is as enchanting as ever. Both with his piano playing and his singing, Ross speeds us on an adventure with sophisticated interpretations and varying rhythms. He also digs deeply into the meaning of the lyrics, yet always maintaining his jaunty style, which come to think of it, is thoroughly in keeping with the debonair manner that was so appealing about Astaire. Ross also takes time to provide us with background information that in itself is entertaining. Ross clearly has a romantic feeling about so many of the numbers he chooses. He prefaces his rendition of Irving Berlin's "Isn't It a Lovely Day?" by calling it "one of the most beautiful songs ever written." Lamenting the lack of a dance floor, he at one point in introducing a number playfully suggests that audiences have been known to sway at their tables. And what an avalanche of songs Ross presents. The treasure trove from which he chooses is extremely rich, provided by legendary composers and lyricists. His repertoire includes, for example, "Cheek to Cheek" (Berlin); "A Fine Romance" (Dorothy Fields and Jerome Kern); "Puttin' on the Ritz," of course (Berlin); "I Guess I'll Have to Change My Plan" (Howard Dietz and Arthur Schwartz); "I Wanna Be a Dancin' Man" (Johnny Mercer and Harry Warren); "Thank You So Much Mrs. Loughsborough-Goodbye" (Cole Porter); "They Can't Take that Away from Me" (George and Ira Gershwin)-the list goes on and on. If you want a lift from the pressures of our times or your daily routine, a sure bet is to head for the Oak Room and let Steve Ross lift your spirits with his inimitable style and joyful menu of hit songs capturing the era of Astaire and reviving memories of his unique singing and dancing. Ross too is unique, and being in his cabaret company is a tonic. At the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel, 59 West 44th Street. William Wolf, Wolf Entertainment Guide, January, 2010 TOP 10 VOCAL ALBUMS OF 2009
The only songs with melodies not by Loewe or Lane are a trio from Lerner's last, uncompleted project, never before recorded. And they're terrific—and terrifically performed! The show would have been My Man Godfrey with music by Gerard Kenny. "Try Love" is a lovely, heartfelt ballad, "Dancing My Blues Away" is sprightly and fun. And full of sharp barbs akin to some of Henry Higgins' grousing in Lerner's My Fair Lady lyrics is the collection of snide comments, "I've Been Married." As Steve points out in his patter (of which I wish there were more), the writer had been married eight times when he wrote this one. Though the veteran entertainer Ross has never been at a loss when it comes
to grace and polish and sophisticated charm, here he also imbues many numbers
with more longing and a bittersweet quality. Directed by his co-arranger,
Duncan Knowles, the proceedings are a master class in presenting classy songs
with class (and much contagious joy). Thank heaven for the loverly Steve Ross. Talkin' Broadway Sound Advice, January 14, 2010 STEVE ROSS Steve Ross often gives the impression that Fred Astaire was created simply so Ross could croon the great singer-dancer's repertoire. Nobody does it better, plus which he plays piano even more creatively than his quintessentially debonair and endlessly talented predecessor. Ross singing Astaire isn't a new show for him, but it's an enduring one. David Finkle, The Village Voice, January 12, 2010
STEVE ROSS & PATRICIA HODGE IN P.S. WE'RE BACK The Great American Songbook is alive and well and residing this week at Pizza on the Park in London’s Knightsbridge where Steve Ross, doyen of supper-club singer-pianists, and actress and singer Patricia Hodge are recalling some of the great American songs along with the best of British. Both performers have voices that remind us of an earlier era, the 1930s and 1940s , when Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers, Jack Buchanan & Elsie Carlisle, Noël Coward & Gertrude Lawrence and Ivor Novello & Judy Campbell were treading the boards and making the movies. It was a time when the popular songs of the day came from the musical-comedy shows on Broadway and in London’s West End. George & Ira Gershwin, Jerome Kern, Oscar Hammerstein, and Irving Berlin and Cole Porter were writing the hit songs in the US while Noël Coward, Eric Maschwitz, Vivien Ellis and Ivor Novello were doing the same in the UK. In their new show Steve and Patricia unearth the best of the material from this era and it proves to be a rich seam they are mining. There’s a vague theme of travel about the show but it’s not set in stone. It begins with a rather more up-to-date song, ‘You’re so London’ that Julie Andrews and Carol Burnett used in their famous 1962 Carnegie Hall concert, the lyrics of which hilariously contrast the brashness of the American Burnett with the oh-so English Rose qualities of Andrews. This segues into ‘(The Lady’s a) Star!’ from “Star!”, Robert Wise’s biopic with Julie Andrews playing Gertrude Lawrence. The period is then set for Joseph Meyer’s ‘Fancy Our Meeting’, which veteran song and dance man Jack Buchanan popularised in Britain. To follow are songs by the Gershwins, Jerome Kern and Eubie Bake, interspersed with ones by Coward, Maschwitz and Novello. This last was not only prolific at writing romantic numbers, but he could also turn out a fine comic song such as ‘And Her Mother Came Too’ which Steve essays with his usual aplomb. Maschwitz wrote such iconic numbers as ‘Goodnight Vienna’ and ‘Room 504’ which are performed here with the utmost gentility and respect for both the words and the music. Noël Coward could be both raucous and genteel and here we get ‘A Room with a View’, ‘Something Very Strange’ (from “Sail Away”) and ‘If Love Were All’, Coward’s favourite of his own songs, plus the full lyrics of ‘Mad About the Boy’, the last verse of which was originally censored on account of an alleged lapse of taste, as it is sung by a married man. Schwartz & Dietz could also do sad torch-songs as well as upbeat numbers, but here it’s all contemplation in ‘By Myself’, ‘Alone Together’ and ‘I Guess I’ll Have to Change My Plan’. Three songs from Rodgers & Hammerstein’s “The King and I” (with its Gertrude Lawrence connections) and a medley of songs bringing us back to London and New York, the respective homes of Patricia and Steve, complete a packed programme, impeccably performed. Patricia Hodge is very good at comic songs such the one in which she admits to being “terribly good at imitating sheep” and ‘Das Chicago Song’, Cohen & Walsh’s brilliant pastiche of Kurt Weill and “The Threepenny Opera”, sung with Dietrich-Minnelli type actions. For a finale there’s a quick skip through two dozen or so songs illustrating the history of the twentieth-century musical, from Otto Harbach’s ‘Every Little Movement’ to Andrew Lloyd Webber’s ‘Love Changes Everything’. Great show, great songs, great entertainment. Let’s hope that London can carry on supporting this civilised style of cabaret when it is performed by two immaculate artists such as Steve Ross and Patricia Hodge. Don’t miss this toothsome treat of a show. Michael Darvell, www.classicalsource.com, November 27, 2009
I REMEMBER HIM WELL: THE SONGS OF ALAN JAY
LERNER HIS personality is self-effacing, his voice is light and hardly mellifluous but who cares when he can interpret songs with such skill? Debonair New York cabaret artist Steve Ross, who memorably played Melbourne in 2003, presents “a disposition on the genius and words of Alan Jay Lerner”, recorded at the Algonquin Hotel. He invests such feeling – even reverence – in a lyric that he almost makes you believe you are hearing a standard like If Ever I Would Leave You for the first time. With his elegant piano accompaniments, Ross presents a delightful recital to illustrate the lyricist’s mastery of his craft. He gives a fresh sheen to staples from My Fair Lady, Brigadoon, Gigi, Camelot and Paint Your Wagon but the true delights are the less-well-known songs, none better than three from the unfinished musical on which Lerner was working at the time of his death: a lilting beguine, Try Love, the bouncy Dancing My Blues Away and a cynically funny take on wedlock, I’ve Been Married. Eight-times-wed Lerner had just the credentials to write “living life connubially, isn't any jubilee”. Jim Murphy, The Age, Australia, September 17, 2009
MIDSUMMER MUSIC
Perhaps most notable are three previously unrecorded songs from the musical that Lerner was working on at the time of his death, a show based on the movie My Man Godfrey. Lerner’s lyrics for these songs -- particularly “I’ve Been Married” -- are witty and tart, fitted perfectly to the beguiling melodies from composer Gerard Kenny. Kenny’s work with the bouncy “Dancing the Blues Away,” is particularly choice, deftly capturing the buoyant sounds that one associates with music of the 1930s. Ross, always a grand interpreter of lyrics, felicitously delivers Lerner’s words. His phrasing is impeccable and listeners can hear the joy that Ross feels when crooning a particularly choice bon mot within a song. As pianist, Ross is equally adept, finding nuance in the melodies of Lerner’s many collaborators. Andy Propst, TheaterMania, August 17, 2009 Describing Steve Ross as in a class by himself is by now a cliché, but what can you do? It’s true. Ross is delightfully demonstrating his prowess, charm and individuality again at the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel, this time under the title “I Remember Him Well – the Songs of Alan Jay Lerner.” Ross takes to the lyrics of Lerner with panache, sailing through a repertoire of songs the distinguished lyricist wrote, mostly with Frederick Loewe and Burton Lane. By now Ross has his cabaret persona down to what seems to be easygoing perfection. Looking elegant in his tux, he briskly takes his seat at the piano and gets down to business with “I’m On My Way” from ”Paint Your Wagon” (Lerner and Loewe). And indeed he is. His blending of virtuoso piano playing with jaunty singing communicates surely with his audience, especially in the intimate venue of the Oak Room. Ross is sprightly with “I Never Met a Rose” from”Little Prince,” wistful with “I Talk to the Trees” from “Paint Your Wagon” and romantic with “Time for a Love Song” (Lerner and Lane) from “Carmelina.” I especially like the romantic feeling and sensitivity that he pours into “If Ever I Would Leave You” from “Camelot.” Ross plucks several songs from “Gigi” (Lerner and Loewe). He gives us a bit of a Maurice Chevalier imitation with “I Remember It Well.” He reminds us of the fun in other numbers from that work, including “Thank Heaven for Little Girls” and “I’m Glad I’m Not Young Anymore.” He also has the right feel for the romantic intonations of the title song “Gigi.” The entertainer, whose voice is not huge but a very pleasant one, offers a generous helping of numbers. In addition to selections from “My Fair Lady” he delves into the show “On a Clear Day You Can See Forever” (Lerner and Lane), and is a special standout with “What Did I Have That I Don’t Have?” His “Come Back to Me” from the same show doubles as a sly invitation for his audience to come back to him. No big problem there – audiences have been coming back to Steve Ross for years, whether in Manhattan or venues he has brightened abroad. William Wolf, New York Calling, February 2009 STEVE ROSS AT PIZZA ON THE PARK, SW1 The last time I heard that dapper New York singer-pianist Steve Ross, he was cutting an irresistibly stylish path through the lyrics of Stephen Sondheim. Although Ross had made his name as an interpreter of the Cole Porter school of songwriters — he still poses in top hat and tails on his website — he had no difficulty adapting to Sondheim’s angular melodies. For his latest visit – part of Jeff Harnar’s American Songbook in London series — he explores the more romantic and occasionally whimsical realm of Alan Jay Lerner. Extracts from My Fair Lady, Paint Your Wagon, Gigi and Brigadoon dominate proceedings, although Ross also finds room for Lerner’s collaboration with Gerard Kelly on an uncompleted adaptation of My Man Godfrey. The singer’s low-key approach always yields rewards, his semi-conversational style refreshingly free of any faux-showbiz embellishments. His piano playing is similarly unflashy, yet full of subtle turns of phrase, as he demonstrated on a brisk instrumental canter through the “almost perfect” show that is My Fair Lady. Ross dispensed witty nuggets of biographical information along the way, leaving you to wonder what would have happened to the Pygmalion tale if Comden & Green had brought it to the stage. As Ross was the first to admit, Lerner’s repertoire is not so rich in after-hours introspection, but there was more than a hint of saloon-bar melancholy on What Did I Have That I Don’t Have? co-written by Burton Lane. Towards the end of a relaxed set, Jeff Harnar emerged from the wings to perform a duet on Almost Like Being in Love, and the audience had its chance to join in the chorus of Wouldn’t It Be Loverly? Clive Davis, Times Online, London, March 26, 2009
I REMEMBER HIM WELL: THE SONGS OF ALAN JAY LERNER Alan Jay Lerner (1918-1986) was the lyricist and librettist responsible for some of the most beloved musical shows to come out of American theatre. With composer Frederick Loewe he formed a duo of artistic creators second only to Rodgers & Hammerstein, although some might even place all four on the same pedestal. Good as they were, and as popular as they became, you might still call Rodgers & Hammerstein the greatest craftsmen of the Broadway musical. On the other hand Lerner & Loewe were the true artists of the genre. In “Oklahoma!”, “Carousel”, “South Pacific”, “The King and I” and “The Sound of Music”, Rodgers & Hammerstein dealt with real-life problems. In the likes of “Paint your wagon”, “Brigadoon”, “Camelot” and “Gigi”, Lerner & Loewe took a more spiritual look at life, while “My fair lady” was a mixture of both social comment and philosophy. This last is generally accepted to be the best, the most popular, the most successful and the most enduring of American musicals. Although Steve Ross here pays tribute to the words of Alan Jay Lerner, he in no way belittles the contribution of Frederick Loewe’s music to the success of the partnership and considers him to be one of the greatest of American tunesmiths. Lerner studied at Harvard where he knew John F. Kennedy and where he contributed to college shows. His ambition was to be in musical theatre. After graduating he worked for radio until a visit to the Lambs Club in 1942 found him meeting Frederick Loewe quite by chance. The composer was looking for a lyricist, so they began working together on “Life of the party”, a musical based on a farce. It was staged by a Detroit theatre company and ran for nine weeks. Encouraged by this success they next worked on “What’s up?”, about aviators stranded in a girls’ school, which ran on Broadway for just sixty-three performances in 1943. Two years later they completed “The day before spring” and by then their partnership was sealed. Their first long-running production came with “Brigadoon” in 1947, which clocked up nearly 600 performances. Four years later came “Paint your wagon”, a reasonable success at nearly 300 performances, although it did better in London where it ran for a year. In between these shows Lerner also worked with Kurt Weill on “Love life” and with Burton Lane on the Fred Astaire musical-film, “Royal wedding”. He also wrote the screenplay for the Gene Kelly film “An American in Paris” using the music of George Gershwin. Turning George Bernard Shaw’s play “Pygmalion” into a musical show took many years of consultation between the owner of the rights, film producer Gabriel Pascal, who had already filmed Shaw’s play in 1938, and the eventual writers, Lerner & Loewe. They expressed interest early on but dropped the project for a couple of years. Others who had turned it down included Leonard Bernstein, Betty Comden & Adolph Green, Cole Porter, and Rodgers & Hammerstein, the last having told Lerner it was an impossible task because it is all talk, talk, talk with no room for the songs. However, when Pascal died, both MGM and Lerner & Loewe wanted the rights. The latter did secure them and “My fair lady” was born. Far from finding no room for the songs in Shaw’s play, the musical numbers fit perfectly around Shaw’s dialogue, most of which is retained by Lerner in his book. Indeed, if you see “Pygmalion” now, there are moments where you expect the songs to break in and develop the dialogue. Imagine, if you will, the songs we might have had, if Bernstein, Porter or Rodgers & Hammerstein had succeeded in musicalising “Pygmalion”. Actually, it doesn’t bear thinking about… Having run for six years in New York and five in London, “My fair lady” was the most successful musical in theatre history at the time. It won six Tony awards and the film version went on to win eight Oscars in 1964. The next project for Lerner & Loewe was almost equally auspicious, the film of “Gigi”, the last original musical to come out of MGM. This won all nine of its Academy Award nominations. “Camelot” followed in 1960 with Julie Andrews and Richard Burton in a none-too-heavily-disguised tribute to the Kennedy administration but set in the time of King Arthur. It lasted for almost 900 performances and was filmed with Richard Harris and Vanessa Redgrave. After that Loewe retired and Lerner worked with many other composers, albeit not always too successfully. He did “Coco” with André Previn for Katharine Hepburn playing Coco Chanel, worked with John Barry on “Lolita, my love”, with Bernstein on “1600 Pennsylvania Avenue”, a show about the White House with Patricia Routledge playing all the First ladies, with Burton Lane again on “Carmelina”, a musical development of the film “Buona Sera Mrs Campbell”, and with Charles Strouse (of “Annie” fame) on “Dancer a little closer”, based on Robert Sherwood’s play “Idiot’s delight”. After Loewe came out of retirement to work on the stage musical of “Gigi”, they also adapted Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s story of “The little prince” as a film musical in 1974 but it was not a success. In his last years Lerner was working on a musical of the film “My man Godfrey” with composer Gerard Kenny and he started writing “The phantom of the opera” with Andrew Lloyd Webber but illness saw him replaced by Charles Hart. Steve Ross mainly concentrates on the songs that Lerner wrote with Loewe which were, after all, the most successful of both their careers. The title of the compilation is “I remember him well” which comes from a song in “Gigi” in which Hermione Gingold and Maurice Chevalier look back at their former relationship even though Honoré, the Chevalier character, actually remembers very little. The full song is included and Steve Ross manages to do a convincing double act singing both parts. It’s written as a humorous number but the emotional feelings of the two elderly people trying to remember come through acutely in Steve’s performance. He tells Lerner’s story with great sympathy, a man with foibles and addictions who had eight wives, a subject he later broached in a song from the not-produced show “My man Godfrey”. It too is a comic song called ‘I’ve been married’, and here personal experience is uppermost in Lerner’s mind. According to Ross, Lerner also seemed obsessed with plant-life as exhibited in songs such as ‘I never met a rose’ (“The little prince”), ‘I talk to the trees’ (“Paint your wagon”), and ‘Hurry, it’s lovely up here’ in which the heroine of “On a clear day you can see forever” talks to her flowers. Here we glimpse Lerner’s mystical and romantic side. With a sensual response to the English language, Lerner was a true perfectionist who agonised over his lyrics. He wrote over ninety versions of the title song from “On a clear day…” taking eight months to do it, giving three hours a day to the job in hand. Eventually eight versions were shown to Loewe before Lerner was satisfied with the final result. In ‘Thank heaven for little girls’ from “Gigi” he worried about the lines “Those little eyes so helpless and appealing / One day will flash and send you crashing through the ceiling”, because he reckoned that you could only crash through a floor, not a ceiling. However, having laboured over finding just the right word for a line for weeks on end, he was delighted when it finally came to him. He was immensely pleased when he managed to get the word ‘pavement’ into ‘On the street where you live’ in “My fair lady”: “I have often walked down this street before / But the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before”. Good lyrics need good music, which is why Lerner & Loewe made such a successful partnership. In one part of his show Steve Ross plays a medley of just some of Loewe’s music to remind us how fine a composer he was and in so doing also demonstrates what a fine pianist Steve is. Loewe could write the most romantic of love-songs such as ‘If ever I would leave you’ (“Camelot”), ‘The heather on the hill’ and ‘Almost like being in love’ (“Brigadoon”) or the title song from “Gigi” with real sentimental feeling, and yet also turn out the most delightful of comic songs such as ‘With a little bit of luck’ or ‘Wouldn’t it be loverly?’ (“My fair lady) with the same insouciance. Steve Ross brings his wide experience of the American Songbook to the words of Lerner and the music of Loewe, Lane and Kenny. Highlights include one of Lerner & Loewe’s earliest songs, ‘My last love’ from “What’s up?” which displays their early promise. The songs from “Gigi” show the partnership at its lyrical best. A Burton Lane medley of ‘Too late now’ (“Royal wedding”) and ‘What did I have that I don’t have?’ (“On a clear day…”) are two songs of regret that reveal a more wistful side of Lerner’s writing. The show ends with a joyous selection from “Brigadoon” and “My fair lady” in which host Jeff Harnar duets with Steve before the entire audience join in for ‘Wouldn’t it be loverly?’ All in all, this is an evening of classic songs immaculately performed by the master of cabaret: we’ll remember him well, too. A final word for Pizza on the Park’s resident pianist Leigh Thompson who, before and after Steve Ross’s performance, plays an eclectic selection of Broadway songs by Jerome Kern, Johnny Burke and Jimmy Van Heusen, Sondheim and Kander & Ebb among many others. Michael Darvell, www.classicalsource.com, March 24, 2009 CABARET'S CROWN PRINCE Steve Ross is called “The Crown Prince of Cabaret,” and in his well-researched new tribute to the genius of lyricist Alan Jay Lerner at the Algonquin, he lives up to the label. Joyfully ranging from the western influence of Paint Your Wagon to the drawing-room elegance of My Fair Lady, the exuberant singer-pianist runs the gamut of this prolific writer’s repertoire, showing how Lerner pulled words out of his noggin like nuts from a cluttered fruit cake. “Poignant” has never been a word I associate with Mr. Ross’ raspy voice—until now. But he’s surprisingly moving on everything from “Hurry! It’s Lovely Up Here,” the opening number in On a Clear Day You Can See Forever, to “My Last Love,” one of the first songs Lerner ever wrote with longtime collaborator Frederick Loewe, whom he met accidentally in the 1940s at the Lambs Club by making a wrong turn on his way to the men’s room. Their partnership produced many smash hits, from Camelot to Gigi, and Mr. Ross touches almost all of them. He is not a good enough actor to imitate Maurice Chevalier and Hermione Gingold at the same time, but he sings in tune and is a great crowd pleaser. Revealing a less frolicsome side of his nature than usual, he can be touching (on a slow-tempo reading of the traditionally raucous “What Did I Have That I Don’t Have?”), charming (on Jane Powell’s waltz-time ballad “Too Late Now” from the film Royal Wedding) and introspective (on a beautifully arranged “Heather on the Hill” from Brigadoon), all sung softly and straight from the heart. He’s done his homework, and the result is a revealing portrait of Alan Jay Lerner as a restless, dapper, diminutive perfectionist (91 sets of lyrics before he was satisfied with “On a Clear Day”) who was married more times than Barbara Hutton. The words and music blend artfully in a polished style that makes you feel good and go away full. You even want to sing along, but wait for instructions. Mr. Ross will tell you when. Rex Reed, The New York Observer, January 13, 2009 LENDING AN EAR TO LERNER SONGS LESS FREQUENTLY HEARD When the singer and pianist Steve Ross gives a musical history lesson, information that other performers might add as a footnote, if at all, can end up as a paragraph in an absorbing seminar that defies conventional expectations. Last year Mr. Ross dug up some wonderful Stephen Sondheim obscurities in his tribute to that composer. His new show, “I Remember Him Well — the Songs of Alan Jay Lerner,” at the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel, is an even tastier examination of the lyricist for “My Fair Lady,” “Gigi” and “Camelot.” One enlightening paragraph is a three-song suite from a musical adaptation of “My Man Godfrey” that Lerner was writing with the composer Gerard Kenny at the time of Lerner’s death in 1986. “Try Love,” a slinky, lighthearted beguine; the jaunty “Dancing My Blues Away”; and “I’ve Been Married,” an outrageously caustic diatribe against marriage (Lerner was married at the time to his eighth wife) from the unfinished score, may not measure up to the brilliance of “My Fair Lady” and “Gigi.” But Mr. Ross shows that these virtually unknown songs are worthy additions to the Lerner catalog. “Try Love,” in particular, has the potential for a commercial life beyond the theater. The show is a beautifully constructed career reappraisal channeled through the voice and piano of a performer whose mild-mannered politesse is antithetical to the stentorian posturing associated with many Lerner and Loewe songs, especially those written for “Paint Your Wagon” and “Camelot.” To hear Mr. Ross’s quiet, heartfelt rendition of “If Ever I Would Leave You” on Wednesday evening was to rediscover a ballad that is typically delivered as a fanfare of oratorical bluster. Mr. Ross’s quiet performance gently carried it into a private realm where its high-flown assertions of eternal devotion became tender endearments. “Too Late Now” joined to “What Did I Have That I Don’t Have?,” both written with Burton Lane, made perfectly matched expressions of what Mr. Ross called “rue and regret.” Singing “I Remember It Well,” the nostalgic duet from “Gigi” about faulty memory, he took both the Maurice Chevalier and Hermione Gingold roles. “I’m Glad I’m Not Young Anymore” was imbued with the same all-forgiving wistfulness. The song still stands as the best musical argument I know of for embracing old age as a reward rather than as a punishment. For years Mr. Ross was the cabaret world’s reigning Park Avenue dandy and embodiment of the Cole Porter-Noël Coward attitude of garrulous suavity. Without peeling away his polish, he has moved to a deeper place in which crooning in a voice he seems to have kept in reserve has largely replaced Mabel Mercer-inspired speech-song. At the same time his sharply punctuated pianism has stretched out in richer, semiclassical directions. Of how many other cabaret performers can it be said that unadorned voice and piano make for a complete and completely engrossing show? Steve Ross performs through Jan. 31 at the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel, 59 West 44th Street, Manhattan; (212) 419-9331, algonquinhotel.com . Stephen Holden, The New York Times Music Review, January 9, 2009
STEVE ROSS: I REMEMBER HIM WILL In an age when urbanity is a trait often considered past its time, you can only hope the very urbane Steve Ross — still performing in black tie with boutonniere and breast-pocket handkerchief — will find appreciative audiences for I Remember Him Well, his tribute to the equally if not even more urbane Alan Jay Lerner. Lerner is — it should be needless to say but perhaps isn't — the dedicated Broadway wordsmith of Brigadoon, My Fair Lady, Camelot, and On a Clear Day You Can See Forever. A theatre man from head to toe during his lifetime (with him the distance was not that great), he was also fascinated, as Ross makes sure to point out, by the occult and found a way to combine those obsessions in the above-mentioned On a Clear Day. Ross, as is his pleasure, tiptoes through Lerner's garden, interspersing his renditions of songs written mostly with Frederick Loewe and Burton Lane with a running commentary on well-known and obscure aspects of Lerner's career on Broadway and in Hollywood. He reminds his audience, for instance, that Gigi won the 1958 Oscar as best picture and for its title tune, which he sings with a Romeo's longing. He refers to the eight months Lerner took to complete the On a Clear Day title ditty. In line with the way he likes to construct his reminiscences, Ross programs songs so familiar that with "Wouldn't It Be Loverly?" (music by Loewe) the second-night audience was able to sing along. Yet he calls attention to less-familiar numbers. Doubtless the least familiar are three songs for the musical adaptation of My Man Godfrey that Lerner was working on when he died in 1986. Obtaining those, the song hound must have relied on resources who remained unnamed. Perhaps the prime resource was composer Gerard Kenny, who provided tunes on a par with the best Lerner had ever been handed. The titles are "Try Love," "I've Been Married," and "Dancing My Blues Away." Each is stamped with the words "potential standard," and it would be interesting to know how close to completion the entire project was. It may be a treasure worth uncovering. Habitually a cabaret entertainer with a twinkle in his eye and voice and fingertips, Ross can be insouciant one moment — Loewe's "Thank Heaven for Little Girls" in a slight Maurice Chevalier accent — and robust the next, as in Loewe's "I'm on My Way" opener from Paint Your Wagon. Then he's deeply passionate, as with Loewe's "Heather on the Hill." It all comes wrapped in a sophistication that — with Bobby Short gone these last few years — probably makes him the last of his kind. Ronny Whyte and Eric Comstock take up some of the slack and add their own panache, but Ross is now sui generis. Curiously, the night I saw him, Ross was in good but not tiptop form. For someone chatting on gallantly about his notion of a superlative lyricist, he made several uncharacteristic lyric mistakes. For instance, in "Hurry! It's Lovely Up Here," on the lines "You've got a spot to fill/A pot to fill," he sang, "You've got a spot to fill/A plot to fill." His version makes perfect sense, but it's not Lerner's choice. Or maybe it is. Maybe Ross knows something — as he often does — about many celebrated songs' original intention. And that's why he remains a cherished cabaret commodity. David Finkle, Backstage, January 8, 2009
CABARET AND OTHER WANDERINGS WITH SANDI DURELL The words used to describe Steve Ross are plentiful and accurate. . .debonair, sophisticated, smooth, masterful. Mr. Ross opened the legendary Algonquin Hotel’s Oak Room in 1980 and 29 years later he is still the erudite master of the Great American Songbook. As the leading interpreter of the words and music of Noel Coward and Cole Porter, he has happily turned his attention to JFK’s Harvard classmate Alan Jay Lerner. (one of the Lerner Shop descendants). Working in New York as an advertising copywriter, Lerner met composer Frederick Loewe at the Lamb’s Club and together they collaborated on some of the greatest musicals ever written: Brigadoon, Paint Your Wagon, My Fair Lady (deemed ‘the perfect musical’), Camelot and the film Gigi. Lerner found great pleasure in the English language and in enhancing romantic themes. As Ross notes, Lerner seemingly had an affinity for flora. . . trees, flowers, hillsides, buds and accelerated plant growth! “I Never Met A Rose” (Little Prince), “I Talk To The Trees” (Paint Your Wagon) and with Burton Lane, “Hurry, It’s Lovely Up Here” (On A Clear Day You Can See Forever) all sung in Ross’ amusing and mellow conversational manner. Unproduced, My Man Godfrey finally received its New York premier at the Oak Room with some witty tongue-in-cheek lyrical matrimonial tidings “Try Love,” “I’ve Been Married” – I have tied the wedding knot until the blood began to clot – and “Dancing My Blues Away.” Maybe someone will actually produce it after hearing these songs! Facing the terror of the blank page in trying to create a title song, eight months elapsed as Lerner wrote 91 sets of lyrics while working with Burton Lane and finally wrote “On A Clear Day You can See Forever.” Ross continues his musical charm, wit and embracing manner on songs from Gigi, beautiful fantasy gems from Brigadoon ("The Heather On The Hill") and the perfection of My Fair Lady (written while Loewe was living at the Algonquin). Songs of regret (with Burton Lane), “Too Late Now,” “What Did I Have That I Don’t Have?” were introspective and touching, especially “Come Back To Me.” A time warp exists in this genre of the musical salon. As I watched the reaction and faces of the audience, I saw the reality of a certain age related population who continue as lovers of the Great American Songbook and it became clearer and more urgent that evenings such as these are part of an important and wonderful heritage that must forever carry on to future generations. Steve Ross continues these magnificent evenings throughout the month of January. Sandi Durell, broadwaywafterdark.com, January 7, 2009
STEVE ROSS Frankly, I had almost forgotten how many extraordinary songs were written by Alan Jay Lerner. Fortunately, there is always Steve Ross to remind me. "Confess," he asked, "how many songs do you know that are about accelerated plant growth?" Hint – "Hurry, It's Lovely Up Here" (Lane) with wonderful rhymes like "Climb up geranium, it can’t be fun subterran-ium." In his latest show at the Algonquin Oak Room, I Remember Him Well – The Songs of Alan Jay Lerner, Ross includes the familiar, Gigi, Camelot, and Lerner's most successful show, My Fair Lady (with Frederick Loewe). He reminds us of songs less often heard, like "I Talk to the Trees" from Paint Your Wagon. He includes three unknown songs written by Lerner when he was living in London: "Try Love (When You've Done It All)," "I'm Dancing My Blues Away," and "I’ve Been Married,” all with composer Gerard Kenny. Lerner should know about this last tune, having been married eight times. "I’ve Been Married” includes lines like, "From counting minks instead of sheep/ I've been married." Too many marriages – too much alimony? Reminding us of Lerner's rhymes of reason and romance, Ross approaches the work articulately and with perception. His timing is astute and he delves into the nuances of the song and its sentiment. Alan Jay Lerner was born into the family of Lerner's, a popular women's clothing store. He had a privileged education and a strong love for musical theater that led him into writing lyrics and librettos. He is best remembered writing to the melodies of Frederick Loewe but he also collaborated with Kurt Weill and Burton Lane. Steve Ross points out that Lerner was a romantic and most of his songs reflect the flush of blooming love, its helplessness and its humor, more than the despair of lost love. Two songs of regret by Lerner and Lane are the pensive "Too Late Now" (Royal Wedding) and "What Did I Have (I Don't Have Now)" from On A Clear Day You Can See Forever, with lines like "Why is the sequel never the equal?/ Why is there no encore?" Ross's information about the breadth of the Lerner lyric book sets up songs as exquisite as "If Ever I Would Leave You" and "Heather On the Hill" (Loewe). With impeccable stress on words, he includes the many verses of "Come Back to Me" (Lane) including, "Let your tub overflow/ If a date waits below/ Let him wait for Godot." Steve Ross is never less than authoritative and required listening for everyone who loves good songs. Steve Ross appears at The Algonquin Oak Room from Jan. 6 through Jan. 31, 2009. Elizabeth Ahlfors, cabaretscenes.org, January 6, 2009 ROSS PUTS ON THE RITZ Legendary cabaret singer Steve Ross, the longtime toast of Broadway and super clubs around the world, made a rare Los Angeles appearance on November 22, at Mark's Restaurant in West Hollywood, courtesy of Chris Isaacson and Shane Scheel's Upright Cabaret. The world-class entertainer started his revue of evergreen Broadway songs by announcing that he was celebrating his 50th year in show business, which led to heartfelt applause. The talent and showbiz savvy that he has polished to a fine sheen over the years was much in evidence in the delightful two-hour show. The first act was a cavalcade of some of the best from Cole Porter (Can Can, I Get a Kick Out of You, Anything Goes) and Irving Berlin (I Love a Piano, What'll I Do, Alexander's Ragtime Band), sprinkled with choice offerings from the likes of Noel Coward (Mrs. Worthington) and Henry Mancini (Two for the Road). Act two focused entirely on the canon of Steven Sondheim, as Ross also has in his arsenal an entire evening devoted to works of the master. Favorites from Company (Another Hundred People, Being Alive, Sorry/Grateful), A Little Night Music (Send in the Clowns), Follies (Ah Paris!) were included, and I was very pleased that he included numbers (We're Gonna Be Alright, Take the Moment) from the criminally underrated score that Sondheim wrote in collaboration with Richard Rodgers for Do I Hear a Waltz? Ross is a pianist extraordinaire (as so aptly demonstrated in his Edith Piaf suite) and sublime song stylist, imbuing the selections with passion, humor, irony, wit, and all of the other wonderful nuances to be gleaned from the Broadway treasure trove. He brings a freshness to every piece that he tackles, imbuing the material with his own trademark style. His between-songs banter is clever and urbane. He's the height of sophistication, melded with a down-to-earth warmth that captivates an audience from start to finish. It's wonderful to see all of the bright young talent that Upright so frequently offers, but evenings like this, spotlighting the work of first-class pros of the elder generation, provide a welcome balance to the mix. Les Spindle, SoCal Stages November 25, 2008 THE SONGS OF LOVE AND HATE American cabaret singer Steve Ross is back at the Pizza on the Park again this week for another display of his studied virtuosity on the piano and in song. His new programme Good Thing Going: Songs of Stephen Sondheim and More is well balanced. The first half dips into classics drawn from the golden age of Broadway and Hollywood musicals, starting out with Irving Berlin’s Alexander’s Ragtime Band and ending with several songs associated with Fred Astaire. Devotion to good diction is one of Ross’s great attributes. So he’s able to deliver the tongue-twisting lines of the title number of Cole Porter’s Can Can in a way that every word can be clearly heard. The second half is devoted to the songs of Stephen Sondheim, the modern flag-bearer of American music theatre, says Ross. There’s some early obscure numbers followed by a variety of favourites from Follies, Sweeney Todd and Company. His choice seeks to illustrate how Sondheim exploits the complexities and contradictions of being in love, wanting to be in love, loathing being in love, etc. Some interesting lyrics supported by great music writing delivered with delightful panache by Ross in full flight. Sebastian Taylor, Camden New Journal & West End Extra, October 23, 2008 STEVE ROSS: GOOD THING GOING In 1970 American singer and pianist Steve Ross was lucky enough to see in New York the last run-through of a show called “Company” before it went on the road to try out in Boston. As he says in his new show, “Good thing going”, a tribute to the work of Stephen Sondheim, the musical form as we knew it was about to change again, as it does every so often. Jerome Kern’s “Show Boat” made the change in 1927 from musical comedy to musical drama, in 1943 “Oklahoma!” brought realism to the American musical, and in 1957 “West Side story” integrated song with dance in a way hitherto untried. In 1970 came Sondheim’s “Company”, a musical but not one with a linear construction. It comprised a dozen or so playlets or sketches by George Furth detailing incidents from a young man’s life in which he cannot commit to a lasting relationship such as marriage. Instead both he and the audience observe his friends and their marital status. As Steve Ross says of Sondheim, he raised the state of the art of the musical and pushed the envelope in a different direction. Gone was the traditional musical-comedy that relied on merely entertaining the audience and in came subjects not usually dealt with unless it be in opera, such as anxiety, ageing, disillusion and despair. Sondheim was featuring the darker side of life and the human psyche. His works were not totally devoid of humour but it is of the black variety, entertaining but also intense and brutish. The immediate example of this is the show that followed “Company”, namely “Follies” – the irony is already waiting there in the title. In “Follies” Sondheim recreated a musical follies show from a bygone era but also etched in portraits of the current follies his characters are going through – trying to relive their younger lives but not realising that the past, like all the old Follies revues, is dead and long gone. After “Follies” came “A Little Night Music”, based on the Ingmar Bergman film about marriage and other relationships, most of which are dysfunctional. “Pacific Overtures” was another immense departure, even for Sondheim, as he depicted an unflattering portrait of American colonialism in Japan. And then came “Sweeney Todd”, his musical thriller about a barber who carves up his customers and lets his landlady pop them into pies. Was this really the stuff of the American musical? Indeed it was then and it is now and, even if it resembled more an English Victorian melodrama, it is still Sondheim’s masterpiece and shows just how far he could take his art. As you can see, Sondheim never deals in the obvious but reinvents himself. In his one-man show, Steve Ross gives us a cross section of Sondheim’s work which, as the “Side by Side by Sondheim” compilation show demonstrated, little bites of Sondheim can be very entertaining particularly in the hands and voice of Ross. He begins with a medley of ‘Another hundred people’ and ‘Being alive’ from “Company” and then ‘Pretty Women’ and ‘Johanna’ from “Sweeney Todd”. These songs sum up Sondheim’s preoccupations with lonely and desperate people, the first telling how solitary you can feel even in a big city; the second is a cry for help by someone who cannot connect with other people on a deep enough level. The third song is about obsession with the opposite sex by men who for one reason or another have no relationships, and the fourth describes how one man plans to save the girl he has fallen in love with. There is further gloomy philosophising in ‘Buddy’s blues’, ‘Too many mornings’ and ‘Who could be blue?’ (written for but dropped from “Follies”) and ‘I’ve got you to lean on’ and ‘Anyone can whistle’ (from the show of the same name). In all these songs there is complexity, contradictions and opposites, exemplified by a line from “Company”: “you’re sorry / grateful, regretful / happy”. This is perhaps why some of Sondheim’s work has not found a popular place with US audiences. He generally does better in the UK where irony is welcomed and accepted. Although ‘June/moon’ rhymes will always be the staple diet of popular songs, Sondheim’s lyrics are something else again. Being not only composer but also his own lyricist, his work has a strong unanimity about it. The words and the rhymes coalesce with the music, the lyrics blending seamlessly without force or unnatural rhymes in an almost conversationally poetic style. Sondheim achieves his often clever and amusing effects with surprising brilliance but is never predictable and he never puts a word out of place. Steve Ross is an ideal interpreter of Sondheim and he brings his own feelings and experience to bear on the songs, adding an extra level to an already-complex body of work. Other songs in the set come from “Do I hear a waltz?”, which Sondheim wrote with Richard Rodgers, “Saturday night”, “A little night music”, “Marry me a little”, a show formed of songs cut from other Sondheim musicals, and “Merrily we roll along”, which provides the title of Steve Ross’s show even though the song ‘Good thing going’ is not part of the programme. However, “Merrily” provides the last song of the evening, ‘Old friends’ (“It’s us, old friend – what’s to discuss old friend? / Here’s to us, / Who’s like us – ? Damn few.”). Well, hearing just a fraction of Sondheim’s output in Steve Ross’s immensely enjoyable tribute allows us to listen to some very good old friends, but who’s like Sondheim? What’s to discuss? Not even damn few, for there is nobody quite like Stephen Sondheim. Steve Ross gives us some two dozen Sondheim songs in an evening of utter brilliance. He even manages something from Sondheim’s first-ever musical, “All that glitters” which he wrote at the behest of his mentor Oscar Hammerstein II. The rest of the evening is devoted to some of Ross’s favourite songs by Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, the Gershwins, Charles Trenet, Murray Grand, Jerry Herman and even the first song he ever sang at Pizza on the Park at his London debut in 1982, Milton Ager and Jack Yellen’s ‘Hungry women’, a comic song about girls who want nothing else but to feed themselves. As he says, “I feed ‘em and weep”. Pizza on the Park seems to be back to its old style of cabaret, so it too must be cherished again. Steve Ross’s opening night showed just how popular this sort of show can be, so catch him while you can. Michael Darvell, www.classicalsource.com, October 21, 2008
A MOMENT WITH STEVE ROSS Hearing the songs of Stephen Sondheim in a New York City museum is particularly fitting these days. The Roundabout Theatre Company's presentation of Sunday in the Park with George,with its extended museum sequence, began previews on Jan. 25, 2008, at Studio 54; on Jan. 11, 28 blocks uptown, Steve Ross delivered a savvy and sweet cabaret of Sondheim songs as part of the concert and lecture series in the Grace Rainey Rogers Auditorium at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Ross is best known for singing standards by Noel Coward, Cole Porter and George and Ira Gershwin in venues like New York's Algonquin Hotel, the Ritz in London, the Crillon in Paris and the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo. Despite his international successes, Ross proudly says, quoting George M. Cohan, he was born "45 minutes from Broadway" — in New Rochelle. His claim to being a "Broadway Baby" is justified by his knowing and sensitive interpretations of Sondheim's music. This cabaret opened with the pairing of ''Another Hundred People," depicting the fretfulness of city life, and "Being Alive," with its desperate appeal for warmth and tenderness. In many ways, Ross's selection of songs for the evening expressed those two sides of Sondheim's vision — the ambivalences and anxieties that make life more difficult, and the affections and desires that make life less painful. Other medleys were similarly revelatory. Ross performed "So Many People" and "One More Kiss" as the bookends of a relationship: all hope and optimism at the start, and then a graceful glance backward to a love that has gone. The coupling of "Sorry-Grateful" and "Losing My Mind" created a moving drama of ambiguity giving way to passion. And then there was "Someone Like You" (from Do I Hear a Waltz?) yoked with "I Must be Dreaming" from All That Glitters, one of the four musicals that Sondheim wrote under Oscar Hammerstein's tutelage; Ross succinctly pointed out that the one has music by Richard Rodgers, and the other has music with a Rodgers-like grace. Ross's arrangements were likewise inventive. Toward the end of "I've Got You to Lean On," he cleverly folded into the accompaniment some phrases of "What Would We Do Without You?" All of these pairings and segues reveal an astute understanding of the emotional landscapes of these songs, an impressive musical nimbleness and an insightful knowledge of Sondheim's work and career. Between songs, Ross turned to the audience, donned a pair of eyeglasses and presented a witty and intelligent commentary. Early in the evening, he declared that Sondheim both "pushed the envelope" and "raised the bar" for musical theatre, that he has the crucial quality for any creative artist: audacity. To illustrate this, he cited the daring of Sweeney Todd. Before singing a medley of "Johanna" and "Pretty Women," Ross invited the audience either to enjoy the poetic imagery of the latter song or to hear it within its context — sung as Todd awaits the chance to cut the Judge's throat. "Isn't it nice to have options?" Ross puckishly asked before turning to the piano and singing his heart out. Ross shared the stage with other luminous New York talent. Dizofe Avuglan brought to "Green Finch and Linnet Bird" a crystalline ornamentation - too infrequently heard when opera singers perform Sondheim. Melanie Vaughan (Celeste #1 in the original Broadway production of Sunday in the Park with George) and Eric Michael Gillett (from the Broadway production of The Frogs and the New York City Opera production of Candide) performed two duets as the dynamic little dramas they are: "You're Gonna Love Tomorrow" and "Take Me to the World." They both have lovely voices, though Gillett's robustness sometimes drowned out Vaughan's beautiful clarity and expression. The entire evening was ably accompanied by double bass player Brian Cassier, about whom Ross quipped, "a fortune teller told me that I would spend a lot of time with a tall man with a large instrument." The evening had other highlights. Not every man can get away with singing "Ah, Paris!" but Ross pulled it off with complete aplomb. One instinctively trusts that this dapper man in a tux and tails and with a white carnation in his buttonhole knows of what he sings in this song. The audience at the Metropolitan especially enjoyed Ross's performance of the full version of "We're Gonna Be All Right" (as heard in Side by Side by Sondheim); this case of marital tribulations and negotiations clearly appealed to this audience's sense of humor more than any other comic song in the program. Ross closed the program with two songs — one perhaps inevitable and the other more surprising. His gentle performance of "Send in the Clowns" included the bridge Sondheim wrote for Barbra Streisand's Broadway Album recording, an addition that Ross believes makes a great song perfect. "A Moment with You" was a delicate reminder of the special relationship a singer can have with an audience. Certainly on the evening of Jan. 11, the heart took flight after spending a moment with Steve Ross and this tender but shrewd set of Sondheim songs. Paul M. Puccio, The Sondheim Review, Vol. 14, No.4 Summer 2008 CREME OF THE CROP American cabaret singer Steve Ross brought the Cabaret Creme season to a close in style. It might have been compounded by the rain, but the atmosphere of nostalgic reverie was irresistible. The lucky hundred or two who came at 5:30pm to hear Ross' A Tribute to Sondheim, and again at 8:30pm for a smorgasbord of Noël Coward, Cole Porter et al, were truly rewarded with a stylish, confident and well-executed program. The first performance began with local jazz identities, saxophonist John Mackey and double-bassist Eric Ajaye, who brought precisions and sophistication to the evening, though their arrangements meandered a little too much at times. After 20-odd minutes it was time for Steve Ross. During his first few songs he appeared to be battling a sore throat. By the time we heard Anyone Can Whistle however, he had fully warmed up and his singing had begun to equal his awesome piano playing. A curious man, who looks a bit like a billionaire US presidential hopeful who never quite made the ticket, Ross exuded authoritative charm and was never for an instant supercilious or arrogant. His affecting love of Sondheim was delivered with prepossessing innocence and breezy proficiency. Later that night, Ross took us on a more irreverent journey through the songs of, among others, Porter and Coward. The second performance also included a breathtaking instrumental medley of the songs of Edith Piaf. Although he chose not to sing Piaf, he did sing two songs in French, La Mer (perhaps better know to us as Beyond the Sea) and Que reste-t-il de nos amours. Both were exquisite. Ross is a performer who balances the innocent fanaticism of a tribute act with the outright skill of an established virtuoso. Well done to him, and The Street for programming such a warming shelter from a wintry night. Aaron Ridgway, Australia, July 7, 2008 Cabaret Review Don't let it get around that you can catch a performer of Steve Ross's calibre in the intimacy of Bar Me. He should be in the Studio at the Opera House, but until that happens we get to enjoy him in this wonderful little room where every nuance of an understated performance becomes monumental. Most cabaret performers struggle to put one show together, let alone the three Ross has brought to town: this Stephen Sondheim tribute called Good Thing Going, plus Cabaret Creme and To Wit: Ross on Wry. Since the Herald last reviewed him the debonair New Yorker's autumnal voice has faded a little more, but he uses it so very adroitly that it's a more edifying experience than hearing a screamer with three octaves. Besides, the musical content is stirred and thickened by his pianistic skills – which drew attention to Sondheim's harmonic ingenuity even as Ross's voice highlighted the man's lyric genius. This was a highly personalised wander through the Sondheim woods from one who knows where some of the rare trees and secret glades lie. These included a song from the teenaged Sondheim's All That Glitters and two from the seldom-aired Do I Hear A Waltz? (written with Richard Rodgers). Other than two Sweeney Todd numbers, he concentrated on the pre-1974 shows, notably the pastiches and confessions of Follies. The title song from Anyone Can Whistle showed how well Ross does wistful, just as Marry Me A Little (Company) showed how well he does wry. Standing out were Losing My Mind (Follies), which was pared back to a raw nerve, and a telling, desperately restrained Send In The Clowns. Tonight he does send them in, via the wit of Coward, Porter, Flanders and Swann and Lehrer. John Shand, The Sydney Morning Herald, July 5, 2008 Cabaret Review It has been said of Steve Ross that he is the Cabaret Master of New York; I would say simply that he is THE Cabaret Master. To quote Mr. Ross: "The best songs are stories, and the best singers storytellers. Great singers can make you care about what they're feeling. You have a sense of knowing them". It was with this sensibility that Mr. Ross delivered songs by Stephen Sondheim tonight at Bar Me in Sydney's Kings Cross. Intimate, funny, classy, wry – all the ingredients of a great storyteller came into play for what was a stunning night of classic songs from one of the great 20th century American composers. Mr. Ross is a performer from the old school of style and sophistication, having risen to fame in the 70's in New York playing at the famed Algonquin Hotel. From there he has travelled the world, performing at the Ritz in London, the Crillon in Paris and the Imperial Hotel Tokyo. Indeed, while sitting downstairs tonight at the less-than-salubrious Bar Me, I felt transported to another era entirely. I was experiencing the golden jazz age and Mr. Ross could well have been Cole Porter or Fred Astaire, enchanting the audience with his suave talent and old world charm. The interpretations of the Sondheim classics were beautifully rendered, Mr. Ross breathing new life into songs that are so well known as to be almost cliché. Buddy's Blues was played as a cheeky blues rather than the frenetic show tune it's normally performed as. Pretty Woman was played in a sweet bossanova style rather than a waltz, and Being Alive was sung as a pensive ballad rather than a big belt number. Impressive too was his absolute mastery of the keyboard and a voice that can break your heart. However, it is really with the lyrics that Mr. Ross shines, imbuing them with a pathos that is rarely heard today. So for all the cleverness and showmanship, Mr. Ross is primarily a performer with heart. In summary, it is a shame that our city doesn't have a proper venue to showcase someone of Mr. Ross's international stature.While Bar Me may well accommodate some acts, it certainly didn't do Mr. Ross justice. The piano is an out of tune disgrace, the sound system thin and noisy, the disorganised staff embarrassing. But, don't let that deter you from the next 2 nights of shows by Mr. Ross. Get there at any cost – he is that good. Bev Kennedy, Arts Hub, Australia, July 04, 2008 STEVE ROSS – TO WIT: ROSS ON WRY New York’s Steve Ross returns to these shores as part of the Great American Songbook in London season at Jermyn Street. His choice is to pluck some of the more quirky, ribald, witty and downright rude numbers from the mythical musical tome. His choices here are admittedly unusual but Ross certainly knows how to entertain. With a vague, almost wandering narrative and a wicked glint in his eye he feeds his audience a rich helping of comic genius from the likes of Flanders and Swann, Coward, Wallowitch and of course, that cornerstone of the songbook, Cole Porter. Themes ranged from hard-core drugs and guns to how a widow rediscovers her taste for sex when her old husband dies. Quite frankly, Ross’s choices were superb and his delivery as wry as the title of the evening suggests. Particular favourites included A Gnu – incidentally the only number this reviewer knew from the catalogue – Delores Del Rio, Dutch Ecology and The Spider and the Fly. Although Ross obviously adores Coward, giving us a hearty rendition of You’ll Have to Show It to Mother, I am not sure it features as his best work. Playing to a practically full house on opening night, it was evident that Ross has many fans in the UK and after this run he is certain to earn many, many more. Paul Vale, The Stage, London, March 10, 2008 THE AMERICAN SONGBOOK IN LONDON: STEVE ROSS Steve Ross spends his career playing and singing funny songs, when he isn’t singing romantic ditties, but this is the first time he has devoted a complete show to the art of the comic song. Steve and director Duncan Knowles have ransacked the repertoire from the whole of the twentieth-century and come up with a wagonload of wit, a bouquet of barbed ballads, a compilation of comic choruses and a sack-full of salacious chansons to present “Ross on wry”. As Steve writes: “For a while after I began my professional career, ‘funny’ songs were my stock in trade. I began with some from the music hall, moved through Flanders & Swann and ended up with Cole Porter and Noël Coward. I then discovered revue, novelty and point numbers as well as special material – all of which comprise the source material for this programme.” Indeed, Michael Flanders & Donald Swann (‘The Gnu’ and ‘Tonga’) and Cole Porter and Noël Coward do take up a large part of Ross’s current excursion. Cole Porter is Ross’s favourite songwriter and he probably performs more of his songs than anything else. The epitome of witty material suits the man, as Steve plies his trade as the sophisticated chanteur and piano-player, he still looks as if he has just arrived from a smart Manhattan hotel lobby or stepped off an ocean liner, circa 1935. Cole Porter’s ‘list’ songs are just perfect for Steve’s laid-back style of delivery, demonstrated in his handling of Porter’s title song to his 1953 show “Can-Can”. Porter deals in the arcane as well as the mundane and you really need a good education or an entrée into American polite society to get all of his jokes. Another great Porter song is ‘They couldn’t compare to you’ from the 1950 show “Out of this world”, in which Mercury lists all his girlfriends up on Mount Olympus. As Steve says, a lot of the songs are quite salacious because many of them deal with the art or the act of ‘doing it’. There’s a really hilarious song by Stan Daniels in which a Hollywood butler answers a call and has to explain why his master cannot come to the phone – he has sexual appointments with practically every name in the movie world’s celebrity book. Talking of ‘doing it’ takes us back to Cole Porter and ‘Let’s do it, let’s fall in love’. Steve sings this and also Noël Coward's parody version: “E Allen Poe, ho ho ho, does it / But he does it in verse / H Beecher Stowe does it / But she has to rehearse”. There’s more Coward in ‘Bar on the Piccola Marina’ where Mrs Wentworth-Brewster found a new lease of love life after Mr W-B kicked the bucket. And in Coward’s ’You’ll have to show it to mother’, we never really find out what ‘it’ actually is – but we can always imagine the worst. The rest of Steve’s programme is made up of rather sweet little songs like Porter’s ‘Tale of the oyster’, Murray Grand’s ‘The spider and the fly’, Milton Ager and Jack Yellen’s ‘Hungry women’ (“I feed ‘em and weep!”), John Wallowitch’s ‘Dutch ecology’, on what it’s like to be a dike in Holland and have a person stick their finger in you, and ‘Teeny tiny lady’, Marshall Barker and David Ross’s very unsettling story about a very small girl indeed: chilling but oddly funny too, and Steve gives it a touch of the macabre. The American Songbook Season host Jeff Harnar does a duet with Steve of Cy Coleman & Michael Stewart’s ‘Turning on’ from the show “I love my wife”, another list song, and Steve ends proceedings with Rodgers & Hart’s ‘At the Roxy Music Hall’ from “I married an angel”. It’s a delightful evening and in fact one of Steve Ross’s best compilations, the ingredients seasoned with just enough chat about his career and the songs, spicing it up with a few jokes and his own inimitable witticisms, and playing all that marvellous music with his brilliant signature skills as a pianist. And they say cabaret is dead. Not while Steve Ross is around it isn't! Michael Darvell, www.classicalsource.com, March 4, 2008 HAPPY RETURNS When Steve Ross brought his Travels with My Piano program to the Cabaret at Savor series last year, I noted that the intimate Flim Flam Room was possibly the idea venue for him. Debonair, witty and charismatic, Ross established an immediate connection with his audience that was all the more effective when nobody in that audience was more than 20 feet away. This year he brings his Stephen Sondheim show, Good Things Going, to the Savoy Room, where most of the audience is at least 20 feet away. And yet, on Friday night that immediate connection was there, despite the distancing effect of the Savoy Room's raised stage, the mediocre sound system, and a back injury that was clearly causing him discomfort. Happily, even with a bad back and a room that makes it impossible for anyone except his bass player (the always-impressive Kim LaCoste) to see his piano playing, Steve Ross is still, in the words of the New York Times, "the Crown Prince of New York cabaret". His traversal of the work of the last of the great Broadway composers is just as polished, graceful and illuminating as you'd expect it to be. I refer to Sondheim as the last of the great Broadway composers, by the way, because his work represents both the apotheosis and the termination of an art form that spanned most of the 20th century. He took the traditional Broadway musical about as far as it could go (to borrow a lyric from his mentor, Oscar Hammerstein II) and then pushed it over the edge. After Sondheim, composers had to find a new direction – which many of them are doing. But the form will never be quite the same. Mr. Ross' show inspires such thoughts because it does such a fine job of representing the scope of Sondheim's work. From the early romanticism of "I Must Be Dreaming" (from All the Glitters, which Sondheim wrote at the tender age of 18), to the ambiguous wisdom of "Marry Me a Little" and "Sorry/Grateful" (Company) and the yearning of "Johanna" (from Sweeney Todd, undoubtedly one of the previous century's masterpieces of musical theatre), Mr. Ross filters the light of the composer's genius through is own unique prism, and the results are dazzling. Mr. Ross delivers all this with his usual panache and, when appropriate, dry wit – some of it musical. Two examples that come immediately to mind: a quick instrumental quote from "Blue Skies" towards the end of "Who Could be Blue" (one of many songs cut from the epic-length Follies) and the musical equivalent of a tap-dance break in "Ah, Paris!" (which was not cut), with Ms. LaCoste's bass playing Fred Astaire. In its original version, Good Things Going was a typical one-act cabaret show, but at the Savoy two acts are mandatory (due, I presume, to the profits gleaned from the bar), so Steve Ross fans get a bonus in the form of a "greatest hits" medley right after intermission. I was glad to find one of my favorite Noel Coward numbers, "Mrs. Worthington", in there (complete with some extra lyrics that were apparently considered too vulgar to be printed back in 1935, if my copy of the sheet music is any indication), along with his enchanting instrumental tribute to Edith Piaf and favorites by Porter and Berlin. Chuck Lavazzi, KDHX-FM, St. Louis, November 1, 2007 In early September, Steve Ross returned to the Hotel Algonqun's Oak Room with his act "Good Thing Going," a tribute to Stephen Sondheim. Ross didn't put a foot wrong during the entire evening. reinventing some of Sondheim's greatest hits in a an elegant, unself-conscious way, never destroying the illusion that he is making it up as he goes along. It was a masterly turn. Brian Kellow, Opera News, October, 2007 PENNIES FROM HEAVEN – THE LIFE AND SONGS OF ARTHUR TRACY "THE STREET SINGER" Ten years ago this week the singer Arthur Tracy (aka “The Street Singer”) died in New York aged 98. He had come a long way in nearly a full century. Born Abba Avron Tracovutsky in the Ukraine, he emigrated to the US at age six with his family who settled in Philadelphia. After graduating in 1917 he studied to be an architect but soon left to take up singing. Moving to New York he appeared in vaudeville and was seen by a talent-scout and given a radio programme. He assumed his sobriquet of “The Street Singer” to avoid embarrassing his family. By the early-thirties he had appeared in a film with Bing Crosby, “The Big Broadcast of 1932”, and went on to make five more. He became a phenomenally successful singer in concerts and on record, selling some six million discs and just as many copies of the sheet music of his songs. He was a ‘bari-tenor’ who specialised in performing a repertoire of popular love songs and ballads of the day, material that would now be considered cheesy. But in 1930s’ America and for five years in Great Britain where he topped the bill at the London Palladium, these were the songs that audiences loved to hear. His signature song was ‘Marta, rambling rose of the wildwood’ which he sang as he stepped on to the stage, as “The Street Singer” seemingly playing the accordion, an instrument which Tracy never actually learned to play. His material was unashamedly romantic but he sang some of the best popular songs ever written, from Romberg and Hammerstein’s ‘One alone’ and ‘Softly, as in a morning sunrise’ to Duke Ellington’s ‘Solitude’ through the Gershwins, Harry Warren and Al Dubin, Jerome Kern, Dorothy Fields and Otto Harbach to Noel Coward and Kurt Weill. He sang the material in a strong, earnest voice that was obviously very appealing to a lot of people. Performing the songs here are writer and director Gregory Moore, an opera singer now concentrating on cabaret and concert work. He has a stentorian voice, much like Tracy and he puts across the material with warmth and feeling for the sentiments expressed in these numbers. He shares the singing with pianist and vocalist Steve Ross, an old hand at this sort of material. Far from being “The Street Singer” Steve Ross is more the sleek or chic singer and he puts a different spin on the numbers that is his familiar trademark. The accordion accompaniment by Romano Viazzani provides a neat background to the period in this most charming and civilised of entertainments. It’s not often you have the chance to enjoy these sorts of songs and here they are presented with passion and delight. Tracy’s main period of popularity was during the 1930s and ’40s but, when Swing came in, his sort of songs went out of fashion. He toured here and in the US but eventually the work dried up and he made his money out of ‘real estate’ instead. However, many years later his 1937 recording of ‘Pennies from heaven’ was used in the 1981 US film of the same name (based on the Dennis Potter play) with Steve Martin and suddenly audiences wanted to know him again. The following year he appeared in cabaret in New York where Steve Ross saw him. Later on Tracy appeared in a Broadway show, “Social Security”, and had a bit part in the film “Crossing Delancey”. When Tracy’s papers were filed at Lincoln Center, Ross was asked if there was a show in his story. The result is two hours of very best kind of musical nostalgia. Michael Darvell, www.classicalsource.com, October 4, 2007 PENNIES FROM HEAVEN Arthur Tracy achieved huge popular acclaim in the early thirties as the Street Singer, a mysterious vocalist of indeterminate origin who wandered the CBS airwaves. With a strong classical training, his forte was the sentimental ballads such as Danny Boy, Just a Gigolo and the number that became his theme tune, Marta, Rambling Rose of the Wildwood. Tracy moved to the UK and was an instant hit on these shores recording such classics as Cocktails for Two, Keep the Homefires Burning, If You Were the Only Girl in The World and the immensely popular Pennies From Heaven. Providing the musical accompaniment and narrative for the evening is internationally acclaimed cabaret performer Steve Ross. Ross makes an engaging and entertaining storyteller, particularly describing the moment when he finally met Tracy in the early eighties. But it is through the piano his fondness for the Street Singer shines through and at a emotional level, September Song struck a deeply poignant chord for a worldwide legend who is now largely forgotten. This evident affection for Tracy is matched only by singer Gregory Moore whose voice has a distinctive timbre that lends itself perfectly to this style, with particular highlights being The Way You Look Tonight and the Kern/Hammerstein classic, Ol’ Man River. Complimenting this duo is virtuoso accordionist Romano Viazzani. Although often portrayed as a skilled accordionist himself, Tracy never actually learned to play one. Moore as the author gives us woefully too little information on Tracy himself, with too few facts to link his one successful ballad after another. Paul Vale, The Stage, London, October 3, 2007
GOOD THINGS COME IN PAIRS Last week at the Algonquin, in the middle of Steve Ross's marvelous Stephen Sondheim show, there was a moment, in the middle of "Sorry-Grateful," when Mr. Ross modulated up a half step. I suddenly realized that this was an auspicious occurrence: the first key change of the fall — now the cabaret season had officially begun. Too bad for you if you couldn't make it back from the Hamptons (and put your white slacks into winter storage until Memorial Day) in time for Mr. Ross's two-week stint: He remains one of the very best old-school pianist-singers, down to his tuxedo and bow tie (nothing as retro or recherché as a tailcoat). No one is better at making Sondheim's pastiche songs from "Follies" sound like they were written in the jazz age. Will Friedwald, The New York Sun, September 19, 2007
STEVE ROSS: GOOD THING GOING Steve Ross opened the fall season at the Oak Room at the Algonquin last week. Another way of putting it is to say that after a long absence from the just-refurbished nitery, Steve Ross is back where he belongs and where he deserves to have a permanent home. Yet another way to put it is to say that with the loss of Bobby Short, Steve Ross is the last apotheosis of the quintessential Manhattan piano man. He’s a throwback to something timeless, although future generations—having moved on—may not see it in that regard and will never know what they’ve missed. Usually inclined to fete one songwriter (Cole Porter, for instance) or one entertainer (Fred Astaire, for instance), Ross hasn’t fought his inclinations much, presumably to the gratitude of the Algonquin brass. (He hasn’t fought his inclination to wear a tuxedo and a boutonniere, either.) For what can only be termed a triumphant return to a doorstep he first darkened—that’s to say, lightened—in 1981, he’s made it a Stephen Sondheim show and called it Good Thing Going, although he borrows that song title but doesn’t sing the song. What he does sing are 21 other songs the East Side genius wrote himself or with Richard Rodgers. The Rodgers tunes—“Someone Like You,” “We’re Gonna Be All Right,” and “Take the Moment”—are from Do I Hear a Waltz?, the 1965 Time of the Cuckoo adaptation for which Sondheim has few kind words. Perhaps he’ll be kinder after he hears how lovingly and understandingly Ross does them. Employing his febrile vibrato and strong fingering like the master he is, Ross romps intelligently through some of the most popular Sondheim ditties and some barely known, like the stunning “Sand” from the unproduced movie Singing Out Loud. This is a breathtaking glimpse of a very particular and always-to-be-cherished New York. David Finkle, Backstage, September 7, 2007 SONDHEIM SAMPLER, STYLED FOR TUXEDO In Cairo you find bizarre bazaars, No, it’s not Cole Porter. But as performed at full gallop by the supremely dapper singer and pianist Steve Ross, “Ah, Paris!” — Stephen Sondheim’s brilliant, often overlooked Porter parody from “Follies” — might as well be. Mr. Ross, who opened the fall cabaret season at the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel on Tuesday evening with an all-Sondheim show, “Good Thing Going,” has built his career paying homage to that holy trinity of old-time super-sophisticates: Porter, Noël Coward and Fred Astaire. For a performer like Mr. Ross, who prefers to keep things light, Mr. Sondheim’s songs pose a challenge. If his lyrics match Porter’s and Coward’s in verbal ingenuity, his wit can only go so far in camouflaging the anxiety, disillusion and the awareness of mortality that seep through so many Sondheim lyrics. Mr. Sondheim takes a certain cruel pleasure in reminding us that inside the skin of the tuxedoed gadfly swooping across the parquet in patent leather shoes is a suffering human being. In the pretty language of “One More Kiss,” the soaring operetta parody from “Follies” that Mr. Ross brings down to earth, “Dreams are a sweet mistake/All dreamers must awake.” This show goes out of its way to examine the obscure nooks and crannies of Mr. Sondheim’s catalog. It includes some real winners. In addition to “Ah, Paris!” there is “We’re Gonna Be Alright,” a collaboration with Richard Rodgers from the 1965 musical “Do I Hear a Waltz?” about mismatched mates rationalizing their desolate marital futures: If we can just hang on, Then there’s “Sand,” from an unproduced 1992 film musical, “Singing Out Loud,” which observes that “Love is just grand/ Until you feel it stinging your eyes.” Among sand’s other treacherous qualities, the song notes, it slips through your fingers, provides no solid footing and gets stuck in your hair. Now and again Mr. Ross abandons his usual comfort zone to embrace danger, but in his own understated way. In his interpretation of that diva war horse “Losing My Mind,” which invites every shade of high drama, this torch song becomes the partly spoken monologue of a man futilely trying to shake off a nagging obsession. Mr. Ross, accompanied on bass by Brian Cassier, demonstrated that a tear-jerker usually performed by a woman pulling out the emotional stops can be just a wrenching when delivered as the murmur of a man on the brink of a breakdown: that low drama can be as effective as high. Stephen Holden, The New York Times Music Review, September 6, 2007 CABARET BALLADEER STEVE ROSS SINGS STEPHEN SONDHEIM Steve Ross has opened the fall cabaret season at the Algonquin Hotel's legendary Oak Room with a program of Stephen Sondheim songs culled from the popular composer-lyricist's Broadway musicals, an unproduced movie, and the cutting room. Ross, who made his debut at the Oak Room 28 years ago, is doing for Sondheim what he has done for Cole Porter and Noel Coward in past New York appearances, and doing it splendidly. Perhaps no other singer on the supper club circuit today could so unerringly mine Sondheim's songs for their reflections on the serious emotional aspects of human experience beneath the frothy surface of life so wittily celebrated by Porter and Coward. "Sondheim delves into the dark side of our psyches unlike any other composer," Ross observes. "With his arrival, a new language was being spoken on Broadway." The 2l-song show titled "Good Thing Going" was premiered recently by Ross with greats success in London as part of the American Songbook series at the Jermyn Street Theater and will be presented at the Oak Room through Sept.15. As usual, Ross is accompanying himself on the piano in a sprightly keyboard style, but he has one backup musician, Brian Cassier on bass. Early in Ross' cabaret career, critics often referred to his "scrubbed, choirboy appearance", a look that has been replaced by that of the debonair boulevardier, graying at the temples. His customary performance uniform - black tie worn with a wing collar, a perfectly folded white pocket kerchief, and a perky red carnation worn as a boutonniere is perfect for the performance persona he has cultivated. Ross keeps his remarks to the audience to a minimum, devoting most of his 90-minute show to singing in his silver-edged tenor. He points out to the audience at the beginning of the show that Sondheim was "an audacious composer, always pushing the envelope and lifting the bars" to accommodate sentiments he considered suitable for the musical theater, and Ross then proceeds to illustrate this in song. He launches the show with Sondheim's most famous patter song, "Another Hundred People" from "Company", which describes New York as a "city of strangers" and then segues in to "Being Alive", another song from "Company" sung by its lonely bachelor protagonist, Bobby, who is thirsting for love to give meaning to his life. Ross then tips his hat to "Sweeney Todd" with a lovely rendition of "Johanna", a tender song of yearning, and "Pretty Women", a paean to the feminine gender. Ross notes that Sondheim occasionally paid tribute to the operetta tradition in the form of parody, and he sings as an example "One More Kiss" from "Follies", a love song worthy of Rudolf Friml, who preceded Sondheim on Broadway by two generations. In the same vein he sings "Someone Like You" from "Do I Hear a Waltz", a Richard Rodgers musical with lyrics by Sondheim, and "I Must Be Dreaming", one of Sondheim's earliest ballads, written in1949. Two of Sondheim's most rarely performed songs provide the show with novelty. They are "Sand", a number with particularly clever lyrics likening love to sand, written in 1992 for a musical film, "Singing out Loud", that was never produced, and "Who Could Be Blue?", a lilting antidote to the blues written in 1971 for "Follies" but cut out of the show along with several other songs. Ross also sings "Ah, Paris" from "Follies", a patter song he tosses off with panache. Ross is at his very best in "Losing My Mind", a torch song written for an actress in "Follies" and is successful in giving it a male point of view, and he also dares another sex change, singing Sondheim's catchy diva song, "Broadway Baby", also from "Follies". He gets the biggest applause of the evening with what he describes as Sondheim's "most beautiful and original song, "Send in the Clowns" from "A Little Night Music", making every word of this bittersweet number about frustrated love count. As an encore, Ross has appropriately chosen "A Moment With You", a song from Sondheim's nearly forgotten 1953 musical "Saturday Night", which contains a veritable roster of celebrity names of the era and recalls Coward's penchant for dropping society names in his songs. It is one of the most amusing offerings of an enchanting evening. Frederick M. Winship, United Press International, September 5, 2007 STEVE ROSS: GOOD THING GOING Steve Ross is best known as a sophisticated, old-school interpreter of composers like Cole Porter, Noel Coward, and George and Ira Gershwin. In fact, there is hardly anyone better at illuminating their work than this erudite and witty performer. But in Good Thing Going, his new show at the Algonquin Hotel's recently renovated Oak Room, Ross has extended his reach to the far more modern Stephen Sondheim, while the Oak Room has also extended its reach to include more tables as well as a more modern lighting system. It will come as no surprise that Ross excels with Sondheim songs that are genial throwbacks to an earlier musical comedy style like "Ah Paris!" "Buddy's Blues," and "We're Gonna Be All Right." These are songs that come to him as naturally as juggling comes to a clown, and like a clown he knows how to juggle a lyric until he gets a laugh. The actual surprise is that Ross, with a modest piano-man's voice and an otherwise dapper and sly performance style, can so deeply delve into the emotional complexities of songs like "Sorry-Grateful" and "Losing My Mind," by coupling both songs into a moving dramatic arc. The wise and revelatory coupling of songs is, indeed, the hallmark of this show that Ross debuted in London. Some of the time, Ross sings through both songs, segueing from one into the next with a powerful effect. Such is certainly the case in his opening medley of two songs from Company: "Another Hundred People," which establishes the high potential for despair among all of the hopefuls who come to New York, and "Being Alive," which stresses the equally desperate need for human warmth and connection. On other occasions, however, he only sings part of a Sondheim song to set up the second; for example, crooning a single verse from "Johanna," to highlight the love of one woman, before quickly opening that sentiment to include a great many more young women with "Pretty Women." While we admit this sort of musical slice and dice can oftentimes work in the masterful hands of a performer like Ross, we're nonetheless of the opinion that if the song is worth singing, it's worth singing all of it. In any event, some numbers stand alone – and do so with impressive results. Regardless of his ever-youthful appearance, one wouldn't think that this elder statesman of cabaret would sit behind a piano and sing "Broadway Baby," yet his winsome rendition is one of the many highlights in this winning show. And nothing is more stunning than his piercingly acted version of "Send in the Clowns, with which he closes his act. You can always count on Ross for sharing a fair share of little known gems, and he does not disappoint when he gives us a song called "I Must be Dreaming" from a show Sondheim wrote when he was in college in 1949 called All That Glitters. The lyric was a bit weak but the melody was lovely, and we are thankful for the opportunity to hear it, just as we are thankful for this lovely show. Barbara & Scott Siegel, Theater Mania Music Review, September 5, 2007
GOOD THING GOING: STEVE ROSS SINGS STEPHEN SONDHEIM At the Algonquin Hotel's Oak Room, Steve Ross talked of four kinds of love: "I was in love, I am in love, I will be in love… and New York, New York." He then walked to the piano and delivered Stephen Sondheim's own complex interpretation of love, Losing My Mind, a song of stunning emotion. While Ross has been long associated with the arch sophistication of an earlier era, he has always rendered a particularly compelling version of this Follies song, decades removed from Porter, Astaire and Coward, so it is not surprising to feel the contained compassion in his riveting rendition. He reaches a pinnacle of heartbreak with: "You said you loved me, Or were you just being kind?" Ross does not ignore a sampling of Sondheim's more uptempo tunes like Buddy's Blues, Broadway Baby and Ah, Paris! from Follies, and I've Got You to Lean On from Anyone Can Whistle, but the mood of the evening is thoughtful with interpretive takes on romance. Sondheim's love songs are never merely messages of affection or even obsession. They are intricate and their messages cross ranges of passion. Steve Ross's arrangements illustrate the Sondheim complications with additional dimensions, like Losing My Mind wrapped inside Sorry-Grateful from Company. The lyrical combining of So Many People (Saturday Night) with the usual operatic, One More Kiss (Follies), highlighted the nostalgia in both songs. With So Little to Be Sure Of and Take the Moment were two wistful segments from two Sondheim shows in the 1960's, Anyone Can Whistle and Do I Hear a Waltz?. Ross stepped around the piano when he wanted to say some words about Sondheim. His patter was selective and illuminating. Accompanied by the sensitive bass-manship of Brian Cassier, his voice, while not traditionally pretty, is evocative and his musicianship, feeling, and interpretation are at a peak, proven with the plaintive aura of Send in the Clowns (A Little Night Music). He included Sondheim's additional lyrics for Barbra Streisand's Back to Broadway album. Watching Steve Ross is seeing a master rule his craft. These songs were rendered apart from their shows; they were communicative for the occasion, and the cabaret Steve (Ross) bringing the theatrically enigmatic Steve (Sondheim) into the intimacy of the traditional Oak Room, underscores the versatile creativity of these two talents. Elizabeth Ahlfors, Cabaret Scenes, September 4, 2007 NOT A DAY GOES BY Steve Ross is playing the Oak Room at the Algonquin–need we say more. Yes, he's doing the songs of Stephen Sondheim When Steve Ross renders a theater song by Stephen Sondheim, it's like hearing it for the first time. The veteran saloon singer, who has been dubbed the crown prince of cabaret, has opened the season at the hallowed Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel for a limited run through Sept. 15th. A boldly assured pianist with a light, reedy and brittle voice, Ross brings a fresh and insightful new appreciation to Broadway's foremost living composer-lyricist. The rich expansive program boasts twenty provocative and brightly clever songs that define Sondheim's extraordinary gift for composition. Ross gives a smoothly functional, yet adventurous performance, adding a brief, insightful and witty narrative. The literature of the Broadway musical can boast no riches more worthy than Being Alive from Company, and Pretty Women from Sweeney Todd and With So Little To Be Sure Of from Anyone Can Whistle. Ross reveals the reverence and the rapture. From Follies, Sondheim's radiant and irreverent portrait of aging showgirls, Ross summoned the heartbreak of Losing My Mind, the sweet whimsy of Broadway Baby and the joie de vivre of Ah, Paris. And it is doubtful one can find any waltzing poignancy as lovely as One More Kiss. Skirting some of the composer's more obvious choices, Ross mines the Sondheim legacy, unearthing a few rare gems. There is the plaintive I Must Be Dreaming from All That Glitters Sondheim's experimental college composition that offered an early promise of sound harmonic structure and a sweet ardent flavor. Another distinctive lost treasure is Sand. The song comes from a 1992 unproduced film project, Singing Out Loud. Following an obvious, but sweetly tempered Send in the Clowns, Ross drafted A Moment with You from Sondheim's first professional musical effort, Saturday Night. The song of sweet dancing simplicity, penned when the composer was twenty-four, later surfaced in the collective revue, Marry Me a Little. The Ross charm governed the repertoire right up to the final glorious note. Opening night found veteran doyenne Julie Wilson on hand with divas KT Sullivan, Barbara Rosene and the unsinkable Tammy Grimes along with cabaret impresario Donald Smith, who will helm the 18th anniversary of his four day Cabaret Convention at Lincoln Center on Nov. 5. Robert L. Daniels, Theater News Online, September, 2007 STEVE ROSS MINES GOLD FROM THE IVORIES AT LE CHAT The only thing wrong with Steve Ross is that his four-day engagement at Le Chat Noir is already half over. A superb pianist, spellbinding song stylist, self-deprecating wit and the very definition of sophistication, he is a master, world-class cabaret entertainer. He begins beguilingly with two-song medleys by different composers: Irving Berlin's raffish "Puttin' on the Ritz" and "Steppin' Out with My Baby"; Jule Styne's "Just in Time" and "Time After Time"; the Gershwins' "Nice Work If You Can Get It" and "S'Wonderful." What you notice first is his assured, light tenor and immaculate, clipped diction. Then there are the arrangements -- all his own -- in which he will change tempos several times in a song, playing intricate contrapuntal harmonies against the melody line. This is carefully crafted, cosmopolitan musicianship and a joy to experience. His humor runs along the lines of "These are songs I learned at my mother's knee -- and other low joints" and the occasional, perfectly timed verbal aside. You'll know most of his repertoire, but in his hands -- literally -- standards are refreshed and one gets a sense of the Champagne fizz a Cole Porter or Noel Coward song had on its initial hearing. When he goes for emotion, the results are exquisite: "What'll I Do?," "How Deep is the Ocean?," "I Concentrate on You," "In the Still of the Night," "All the Things You Are," "Two for the Road." There are comic songs so old that they're new again: Eddie Cantor's 1929 "Hungry Women" and Ivor Novello's 1921 "And Her Mother Came, Too," which still gets solid laughs 86 years later. Ross talk-sings his way into "Don't Put Your Daughter on the Stage, Mrs. Worthington," which, with its sly lyric emphases and pauses, may be funnier than Coward's own version. An instrumental of Coward's "I'll Follow My Secret Heart" is bracketed by sung versions of "Somewhere I'll Find You" and "I'll See You Again." But nothing can top the saga of Mrs. Wentworth Brewster's shameless behavior "In a Bar on the Piccola Marina." Of course there are Coward's louche lyrics to Porter's "Let's Do It," several Porter standards and his brilliant "The Tale of the Oyster." Speaking of brilliance, Ross wisely plays, but does not sing, a medley of Edith Piaf songs and does sing Charles Trenet's "Beyond the Sea" and "I Give You Love," in their original French. David Cuthbert, The Times-Picayune, July 28, 2007 THE AMERICAN SONGBOOK IN LONDON – Steve Ross Sings Sondheim Steve Ross confesses he has great respect for Stephen Sondheim's work. "When you sing a Sondheim song, it's a different kind of air that you breathe," he notes, praising the "brilliance of the lyrics and the thought-out beauty of his music with its obscure, poetic images." Ross's performance certainly did Sondheim justice. He managed not only to perform the more romantic love songs with intensity and soul, but also to deliver the fast-paced lyrics of the show songs with ease. Ross knows when to embellish the songs and when to let them speak for themselves, giving even the well-known Send in the Clowns a fresh perspective, and discovering new meanings to the ambiguous lyrics, including the extra verse penned for Barbara Streisand. His take on Losing My Mind was one of the most moving pieces of the night, and had the audience believing that here was a man who had really lost his mind over losing his love. He has a nostalgic quality to his voice, reminiscent of Fred Astaire in tone and style, perfect for the way he delivers the songs. His vocal ability is even more impressive when you learn that he started off his career as a pianist. In fact, he has accompanied many great stars including Liza Minnelli in theatrical, post-show, celebrity joints in New York. His dexterity on the piano captivated the Jermyn Street audience. His playing style is seemingly effortless, his shoulders moving occasionally, in time with the music. After an hour of Sondheim, Ross moved on to numbers from the the American Songbook. This section of the show was more light-hearted and he succeeded in getting the audience involved. At the start of I Can't Give You Anything But Love, the whole audience spontaneously sang along, providing the night's showstopper. In the encore, Ross showed off his considerable pianos skills to full advantage, performing a series of Edith Piaf numbers that were breathtaking – you could almost hear her deep, heavily accented voice fill the room. Laoise Davidson, Jewish Chronicle, February 23, 2007 THE AMERICAN SONGBOOK
Ross is a veteran cabaret artist having made many appearances in the Oak Room of New York's famous Algonquin hotel and his experience is evident, panache oozing from every pore, his material given that extra boost of being narrated with an engaging, laconic humour. He explains how no-one else quite captures the truth of relationships the way Sondheim does, his innate empathy for emotional ambivalence providing the musical theatre with some of its finest songs as Ross evinces. Famous songs like 'Losing My Mind', 'Being Alive' and 'Send In The Clowns' receive due recognition – all ably accompanied by David Johnson on bass– but there are lesser-known numbers too, the aim being to give a good cross-section of Sondheim's range. Such an intimate setting, one that's 'bijou', as Ross wryly calls it, is perfectly suited to this type of material, the lyrical impact of Sondheim's incisive songs feeling freshly minted... Ross' consummate professionalism– hopefully echoed by his colleagues – provides a superb way for anyone to unwind after a busy week and one can only hope that the Songbook will be back in town again soon. Amanda Hodges, ThreesACrowdOnline.com, London, February 27, 2007 CABARET: STEVE ROSS Over the years the New York singer-pianist Steve Ross has been indelibly associated with the frothy repartee of Cole Porter. The idea of his devoting an entire programme to Stephen Sondheim seemed unpromising on the face of it, especially for the minority of us who find that the composer’s arch wistfulness works best in carefully administered doses. What a revelation this show was. After Andrea Marcovicci’s compelling opening residency in the American Songbook in London series, Ross managed to go one better... his immensely thoughtful arrangements ensured that this was much more than a treat for Sondheim completists. One failsafe test, I suppose, is whether a performer can find any way of making a song as familiar as Send in the Clowns seem freshly minted. There were no doubts on this occasion. In a venue that is small enough to allow the audience to catch the faintest of sighs, Ross’s careworn delivery expressed a rare sense of pathos. He brought so much conviction to Sorry-Grateful that you almost believed the song was as profound as Sondheim’s admirers claim it to be. The same applied to the urban hustle-bustle of Another Hundred People. As for the delightful love letter to grimy Manhattan in What More Do I Need?, Ross injected just the right note of wide-eyed optimism. Could he make Broadway Baby sound like his personal property? Absolutely. The debonair Ross conjured an image of Fred Astaire tapping a path down the Great White Way. It made perfect sense for him later to take a detour into a brief sequence of Astaire classics. Clive Davis, The Times, London, February 22, 2007 A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC HITS ALL THE RIGHT NOTES The Jermyn Street Theatre is one of the West End's few cosily intimate venues, hidden in the heart of Theatreland only yards from a tourist-thronged Piccadilly Circus. It is a thoroughly friendly and welcoming theatre and, on the evening I was invited along to see Steve Ross sing Sondheim, it was filled with an audience which was enthusiastic and knowledgeable about the subject and entirely appreciative of the performance from start to finish. The evening was introduced by Jeff Harner as “Everything’s coming up Ross’s ” and it was. Sondheim is a fascinating composer, his songs – masterpieces of wit and bittersweet love – each telling a story, and Steve Ross’s selection was for me both a mixture of personal favourites and previously undiscovered treasures. His knowledge of, and obvious love for, the composer's work was apparent in every number and his understated singing style, dry wit and personal arrangements, always delightful. Ross intersperses his set with humorous and appropriate anecdotes and we discover that his appreciation for Sondheim stemmed from a preview performance of Company in 1970. How many can claim provenannce of that calibre for their love of Sondheim’s works? Listening to Steve Ross bring Sondheim’s brilliance to life, on the small stage shrouded in heavy red velvet drapes, behind his Steinway, accompanied only by David Johnson on Bass, felt completely appropriate and made a thoroughly spellbinding evening. Exactly what Sondheim cabaret should be. Geoff Ambler, ReviewsGate.com, London, February 16, 2007 THE AMERICAN SONGBOOK IN LONDON – STEVE ROSS SINGS STEPHEN SONDHEIM The second week in the season of “The American Songbook in London” has singer-pianist Steve Ross featuring the music and lyrics of Stephen Sondheim, indisputably the greatest living American writer of music theatre. Although his main interest has always been working in theatre, he is one of very few people to have won an Academy Award, many Tony Awards, countless Grammys and a Pulitzer Prize. Around the time of his parents’ divorce, aged ten, he happened to befriend Jimmy Hammerstein, son of legendary Broadway lyricist Oscar Hammerstein II. It is due to Hammerstein acting as surrogate father and mentor in all things musical-theatre that Sondheim is where he is today. In his range of material he has arguably surpassed the work of his mentor, although in the field of popular hit songs that became classics, Hammerstein has the edge. Oscar did after all write the lyrics for ‘When I Grow To Old to Dream’, ‘I Won’t Dance’, ‘The Folks Who Live on the Hill’ ‘The Last Time I Saw Paris’ plus Sigmund Romberg’s “The Desert Song”, most of Jerome Kern’s “Show Boat” and, with Richard Rodgers, “Oklahoma!”, “Carousel”, “South Pacific”, “The King and I” and “The Sound of Music”, among others. Sondheim, however, has one up on Hammerstein. Apart from contributing just the lyrics to three major shows, “West Side Story”, “Gypsy” and “Do I Hear a Waltz?”, Sondheim has been his own composer and lyricist and produced some of the most complex music theatre songs imaginable. It is just this flavour that Steve Ross brings out in his Jermyn Street show. Ross is a seasoned cabaret artist well-known to New Yorkers from his engagements at the Algonquin Hotel, and to London audiences from his appearances at The Ritz and Pizza on the Park over the last quarter century. Although he has often included Sondheim songs in his act, this is the first time he has attempted a complete Sondheim tribute. There is nobody better qualified than Ross is to present the work of Sondheim. His musical taste, like that of Sondheim, is impeccable and he presents the material not as it was written for the stage but in expert arrangements performed with his signature vocal timbre that adds another level of enjoyment to this already outstanding musical output. Ross dates his appreciation of Sondheim from seeing a run-through of “Company” in 1970, a show that has 15 perfect numbers with no song that does not earn its place, but then this can be said of most of Sondheim’s shows. Think of “Sweeney Todd”, Sondheim’s most accomplished theatre piece with about two dozen numbers and none is superfluous or out of place. From “Company” Ross essays ‘Another Hundred People’ and ‘Sorry/Grateful’, two songs imbued (as much of Sondheim is) with a mixture of happiness and sadness, because nothing is easy in his world and everything is shot through with irony. From “Sweeney Todd” Ross sings ‘Pretty Women’ and ‘Johanna’, again bringing out the incipient sadness of what are essentially expressions of love. Even ‘Buddy’s Blues’ from “Follies” is, yes, a love song, but not as we know it. Sondheim’s biggest hit number that everybody and his wife has recorded and one that Sondheim wrote overnight for the show’s star, Glynis Johns, is ‘Send in the Clowns’ from “A Little Night Music”. Here Ross includes the extra lyrics that Sondheim wrote for Barbra Streisand’s Broadway album and convinces us that this is exactly what the song needs – something to expand or explain the emotions depicted. On the other hand he also includes some of the less well-known numbers from less successful shows, such as “Do I Hear a Waltz?” and “Anyone Can Whistle”. It’s a stunningly well put together show, a template for others of this ilk, a sort of “Side By Side By Sondheim” but without most of the chat, just the occasional link to make the piece appear seamless. Host Jeff Harnar introduces Steve and joins him for a few duets, too, accompanied by David Johnson on bass in a show that deserves a much longer run. Steve ends the show with a selection of his favourite songs by Cole Porter and others, and also demonstrates his excellent pianistic skills in a medley of Edith Piaf songs. A great evening indeed. Michael Darvell, ClassicalSource.com, London, February 13, 2007 STEVE ROSS AT THE CABARET AT SAVOR Although the intimate, gem-like Flim Flam Room at Savor restaurant isn't large enough to contain a stage, Steve Ross is presenting theatre in its purest sense. The theme here is travel, and his selection of material is impeccable: Noel Coward, Jerome Kern, Cole Porter. Because Ross is a servant to the lyric, songs from lesser-known shows like Sail Away and Carnival receive a new lease on life, while already popular tunes from musicals like Can-Can sound so fresh, it's as if you've never heard them before. For New Yorker Ross, this return to St. Louis is probably just another out-of-town gig. But for the viewer, to see a one-man show of this caliber is to witness the essence of simplicity raised to an artful level not soon to be forgotten. Dennis Brown, Riverfront Times, St. Louis, November 2, 2006 TRAVELS WITH MY PIANO The late Mabel Mercer is generally regarded as a seminal figure in the art form now known as cabaret – so much so that the annual Cabaret Convention in New York now has as award named after her. Last month the second annual Mabel Award went to Steve Ross, in recognition of “his four decades of style, taste, flair and communicative power as the American troubadour”. None of that will come as a surprise to local audiences. Ross has been a regular here, both at the Grand Center Cabaret series and now in a new concert series at the Savor Restaurant in the Central West End. Set in the intimate Flim-Flam Room, which seats around 60, the Savor cabaret series offers what may the ideal venue for Ross. Debonair, witty and charismatic, Ross establishes an immediate connection with his audience that's all the more effective when nobody in that audience is more than 20 feet away. Ross is an international traveler with a particular fondness for Paris and London, so it's only appropriate that Travels With My Piano focuses on those two cities as well as on his home base of New York. As a result, the evening includes a lot of familiar material, including Cole Porter's “I Love Paris”, “C'est Magnifique”, “You Don't Know Paree” and, happily, the endlessly inventive lyrics of “Can-Can”; Gershwin's “Foggy Day”; and Noel Coward's two great urban anthems, “London Pride” and “I Happen to Like New York”. Ross is a man of eclectic tastes, however, so you also get Coward's delightful “Why Do the Wrong People Travel” and inspirational “Sail Away” (both from his 1961 show Sail Away – a flop despite the presence of the great Elaine Stritch in the lead), Bob Merril's wistful “Mira” from Carnival, and Arlen and Harburg's “Lydia the Tattooed Lady”. There are a number of rarely-heard gems as well, including Portia Nelson's “Confessions of a New Yorker” (in which she confesses to being “in hate/love” with the town), Murray Grand's droll “The Spider and the Fly” and one of Ross' own compositions, the nostalgic “Manhattan Moon”. There's even Irving Berlin's “Harlem on Her Mind”, from the “Headline Musical” As Thousands Cheer – an uncharitably chauvinistic take on Josephine Baker's spectacular Parisian career. Paris, in fact, provides the inspiration for well over a third of the program. Like many of the songwriters he most admires such as Gershwin, Porter and Coward, Steve Ross has a special affection for Paris, where he recently had the distinction of being the first American to play the Bar Vendôme at the legendary Paris Ritz Hotel. So, in addition to the numbers about the City of Light cited above, Ross also treats the audience to a set of songs, in French, by the noted singer/songwriter Charles Trenet, including “La Mer” – made famous by Bobby Darin as “Beyond the Sea”. He also repeats his instrumental tribute to Edith Piaf, which made such a strong impression during his set at Chez Leon last fall. Ross delivers all of this, as usual, with a breezy elegance that's reminiscent of Fred Astaire or the late Bobby Short. Listening to him, it's easy to imagine that you've been transported back to a late-1930s RKO musical, lounging around a small table in an Art Deco rooftop nightclub with a glittering Manhattan skyline visible in the background instead of the Cecil B. DeMille Egyptian décor of the Flim-Flam Room. That's why the New York Times has called Steve Ross the “Crown Prince of New York cabaret" and also why you should reserve your tickets now by calling 314-531-0220 or surfing over to licketytix.com. Tickets for the show can be purchased with or without dinner, although given the high quality of Savor's food you'll probably want to enjoy both. It's what Fred and Ginger would do, after all.
Chuck Lavazzi,
KDHX.ORG, November The Sounds of Cabaret, Both Innocent and Elegant The singer and pianist Steve Ross received the second annual Mabel Award on Monday evening “in recognition of his four decades of style, taste, flair and communicative power as the American troubadour.” The words of that citation, bestowed at Rose Hall in the opening-night program of the Cabaret Convention, say a lot about the event, produced by Donald Smith, the executive director of the Mabel Mercer Foundation. The convention, now in its 17th year, evokes the musical ambience of the Upper East Side of Manhattan, circa 1959, as an urbane utopia. To attend a Cabaret Convention event is to enter a world in which Bob Dylan, that quintessential American troubadour, might as well not have been born. In receiving his award, Mr. Ross talked about “sophistication,” a word that when applied to popular music was once synonymous with popular standards interpreted with particular attention paid to witty double-entendres and racy metaphors. But in today’s verbally forthright pop climate, the word has come to connote nostalgia for good manners, taste, discretion and subdued elegance. In a sense, yesterday’s worldliness has become today’s innocence. “Say It With Music,” the first of five programs, was devoted to the songs of Irving Berlin. Mr. Ross distilled the tone of the evening by recollecting his first encounter with Mabel Mercer, the international chanteuse (and the convention’s spiritual godmother) who died in 1984. Her emotional empathy, he recalled, helped him recover from a broken heart. By turns breezy and bittersweet, he channeled both Mercer and Fred Astaire in his impeccable, understated renditions of “How Deep Is the Ocean,” “Cheek to Cheek” and “Let’s Face the Music and Dance.” Barbara Carroll, who won last year’s Mabel award, brought a similar grace, understanding, classical refinement and charm to “Be Careful, It’s My Heart” and “Blue Skies.” Klea Blackhurst channeled Ethel Merman with lusty versions of “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” and “There’s No Business Like Show Business.” Judy Blazer (“What’ll I Do?” ) echoed Judy Garland’s vocal quaver, and Lumiri Tubo (“Harlem on My Mind,” “Supper Time”) suggested Ethel Waters by way of Josephine Baker. The evening’s comic high point was K T Sullivan’s deliciously saucy “You’d Be Surprised,” an uncharacteristically sexy Berlin song from 1919 to which she brought a Mae West swivel. (“He doesn’t look much like a lover/ But don’t judge a book by its cover.”) A slow, ruminative “Always,” by Sandy Stewart (accompanied on piano by Bill Charlap), sung in broken phrases that divided the song into different registers, struck the deepest note and turned the song into a lingering meditation on time itself. Stephen Holden, New York Times, October 18, 2006 An Evening With Steve Ross The New York Times once dubbed singer and pianist Steve Ross the "Crown Prince of New York cabaret", but I'm not sure the title is appropriate. To begin with, it's not nearly exalted enough; I'm thinking "King" or "Emperor" might be nearer to the mark. And in any case, it's hard to picture the debonair Mr. Ross decked out with an orb, scepter and crown. A top hat, white tie and tails, on the other hand... The fact is, Mr. Ross – who is appearing locally at the Chez Leon bistro through Saturday, November 5th – has a breezy elegance on stage that's reminiscent of Fred Astaire, Noel Coward, Cole Porter and, above all, the late and much lamented Bobby Short. Listening to Mr. Ross traverse the Great American Song Book, it's easy to imagine that you've been transported back to a late-1930s RKO musical, lounging around a small table in an Art Deco rooftop nightclub in tails or evening dress (as is your wont) with a glittering Manhattan skyline visible through the windows. The intimate, cosmopolitan atmosphere of Chez Leon enhances the illusion. Normally we Mound City denizens get to see big-name cabaret acts only in the more formal setting of the Sheldon Concert Hall, so it's a treat to see someone like Mr. Ross in the more typical setting of a small supper club (90 seats when it's full, which it was on opening night), with a gourmet French dinner tucked away and a respectable Bordeaux readily at hand. Acoustically, Chez Leon is no match for the Sheldon – the acoustic tiles in the high ceiling aren't helpful and on opening night the microphone didn't always pick up Mr. Ross' voice effectively – but for ambience it's hard to beat. Mr. Ross' program for the evening will be familiar to fans of the Grand Center Cabaret Series, where he has become something of a regular. There's lots of Cole Porter – a composer for whom Mr. Ross clearly has great affinity – as well as Gershwin, Berlin, Kern and Coward. There's also an instrumental medley of Edith Piaf songs, obscure comic numbers such as "He's Screwing Delores del Rio" (from the short-lived musical Say Goodbye to 174th Street) and Ivor Novello's witty "And Her Mother Comes Too", and a couple of Sondheim tunes – "Being Alive" and the song it replaced in Company, "Marry Me a Little". They're all delivered with the panache that I have come to associate with Mr. Ross' appearances, and which his fans have undoubtedly come to expect. The bottom line is that if, as Mr. Ross suggests at the end of his set, you've always wanted to be Fred Astaire and/or Ginger Rogers – or even if you just love a classic song delivered with impeccable style – you'll want to catch Steve Ross at Chez Leon. Tickets are, according to my sources, getting scarce, especially for the dinner and show combo; call 314-361-1589 for more information. Chez Leon is at 4580 Laclede, just east of Euclid in the Central West End. A final note: if you do attend, please remember that even in a more relaxed venue like Chez Leon, the basic rules of theatre etiquette still apply. That means no loud yakking during the Piaf medley and no getting up to walk out in the middle of "Send in the Clowns". This is an audience with the King of Cabaret, after all.
Chuck Lavazzi,
KDHX.ORG, November 4 Pianist plays on his French connections Stylish Steve Ross is
back in Knightsbridge, digging into popular song with an archeological
expertise that makes him the supper-club sultan of
A rollicking version of The Night They Invented Champagne evoked the great Maurice Chevalier and a rousing piano medley, including La Vie en Rose and Je Ne Regrette Rien – “I won’t presume to sing these songs, but they must be played” – celebrated the power of Edith Piaf. As always, Ross
supplied gems of insight, noting that Charles Trenet, composer of the wonderful
La Mer, had been badly served by English
translators. I Wish You Love, had a
brooding Gallic lyric, more like What’s Left of Our Love? And Josephine
Baker, the singer and dancer
who clawed her way out of And few knew that Yip
Harburg, lyricist of April in
Jack Massarik, Bobby Short’s death last week symbolized the end
of an era in The programme that
the singer-pianist brings to
But what’s wrong with that? If you want reality, you can go eat a BigMac in Les Halles any day of the week. As he delivers a crisp instrumental version of Sous le Ciel de Paris and breaks into a poised tribute to Charles Trenet on La Mer and Que Reste-t-il de Nos Amours? Ross demonstrates that the illusions are still worth clinging to. In the past, his porter-Astaire pastiches have sometimes seemed a shade predictable. This programme allows him ample room for manoeuvre. He adds a steely version of Jacques Brel’s la Chanson des Vieux Amants, wallows in the picture-postcard romance of Lerner and Loewe’s songs from Gigi and plays up the wry humour of the Tale of the Oyster, the high-society ditty from Fifty Million Frenchmen, a show that was recently revived in Ian Marshall Fisher’s Lost Musicals series…Ross’s French accent is less than perfect, yet only pedants would worry too much about that. Nor does he pretend to be one of the world’s great singers. He is a conversationalist at heart, his unassuming voice bolstered by some artful piano-playing. His Piaf medley was a robust instrumental showcase, ranging from La Vie en Rose to a suitably emphatic treatment of Padam. He can be bluesy too, as he demonstrated on his sequence dedicated to Josephine Baker. One thoughtful juxtaposition followed another. Just a Gigolo segued into Johnny Mercer’s elegiac lyrics on When the World was Young. A boulevardier on the loose, Ross seemed incapable of putting a foot wrong.
Going Out in London: Cabaret Singer Steve Ross Celebrates Paris March 28 (Bloomberg) -- Anyone who
wondered about the lost era of high-toned, late-night singing should hotfoot it
to Steve
Ross's London residency at Pizza on the Park. Though it may be in a smart
location between Knightsbridge and Seated at a piano in tuxedo, sporting a red carnation and armed with a trove of
classic songs, Ross's latest outing borrows
its title from the Gene Kelly 1951 movie ``An American in
It's not often that you can describe a singer by what he doesn't sing. Ross
announces that when it comes to Parisian
David Benedict, Bloomberg
News,
“The
elegant The Astaire legacy is a bountiful one, and Ross glides through more than 16 selections from the pens of Harold Arlen, Cole Porter, Irving Berlin and the Gershwins. His take on "Night and Day" is a veritable concerto, "Dancing in the Dark" assumes simmering poetic proportions, and "Shall We Dance" is so buoyantly airborne that one finds it difficult to remains seated, "Please Don't Monkey With Broadway," a Porter tune that served as a duet for Astaire and George Murphy, remains a jaunty valid plea, and Ross frames "It Only Happens When I Dance with You" with a romanticism that aims straight for the heart. Ross is assisted by pianist Tom Jennings,
and they wrap up the first act with a soaring instrumental medley of "The
Carioca" and "Flying Down to The
balance of the program is nestled in familiar Ross concert and club repertoire,
that features a plaintive romantic reflection with "Song on the Sand"
from "La Cage aux Folles" and Stephen Sondheim's rarely heard
"Who Could Be Blue" that reignites the torch song. He adds a
postscript with Ross injects a few witty anecdotes along the way, and adds some flavorful naughty songs about the sex lives of dolphins and a doomed relationship between "The Spider and the Fly." The new theater, which wisely puts its address in its name at 59E59, is an attractive and comfortable performance space.” Robert L. Daniels, Variety, December 2004 “...No such reservations attach to the thoughtful, wryly urbane Ross, whose Astaire tribute forms half of Steve Ross Stars, the two-act concert he is performing at 59e59. The Theater setting is not ideal, but this master of bittersweet suavity has a natural affinity with the material. His gentle singing with its pervasive suggestion of gray skies, stores reserves of feeling beneath a camouflage of nonchalance. And Ross even captures a sense of Astaire's movement, through his fluid and expressive piano playing. He dances on the keys: elegant, graceful and here to be heard.” “With three productions at once featuring Fred Astaire songs, how does a cabaret-goer choose? Actually, there’s no need to: this reviewer has seen all three shows; each is happily different from the other, and each ranks among the season’s top musical entertainments. In his evening, Steve Ross Stars, playing at 59E59 through the end of December, Ross comes closest to embodying the special qualities that audiences treasured in Astaire: a light, smooth style, a gentle and gentlemanly manner, and elegance. Add Ross’s imaginative keyboard stylings and his strength as a superb interpreter of lyrics, and you’ve got an Astaire-way to paradise.
The evening is
divided into two halves. The first is the Astaire songs – reprising an
earlier, successful show, Steve Ross Sings Fred Astaire – with
selections created, of course, by Irving Berlin, the Gershwins, Cole Porter,
Schwartz and Dietz, Kern and Fields, and Arlen and Mercer. Following
intermission, he offers a mixture of standards by Sondheim, Kander and Ebb,
Jerry Herman and others. Accompanying Ross, in rich arrangements created by the
late Wally Harper, are Tom Peter Haas, Cabaret Scenes, December 2004
“Fred Astaire must be
dancing on heaven's ceiling. Currently, there are three major
Ross is perhaps today's most ideal channeler of Astaire as a singer; he's holding forth through the month of December in the largest of the spiffy new theaters in the 59E59complex. His patter is smart and dryly comic, his piano playing is smooth as silk, and he sings with an honesty and integrity that makes you quickly forget that his voice is nothing special. Of course, that's what a lot of folks said about Astaire, yet the greatest composers of his day -- Irving Berlin, Jerome Kern, Cole Porter, the Gershwins – wanted him to introduce their songs because he always sang them with honesty and integrity. The first act of Ross's show is devoted entirely to standards made famous by Fred Astaire: great material, great arrangements, great interpretations. The second act is an eclectic mix of songs that have served Ross well over the years. A kind of "Best of Steve Ross," it's a delightful set of obscure comic gems, delicate ballads, and so on. Steve Ross is an American cabaret treasure, and this is a wonderful opportunity to see and hear him in a theater setting.” The Siegels’ Column, Theatremania, December 2004 The performing life of the singer-pianist is a strange one; there is plenty of room backstage, but noone to share the blame for any onstage disasters. All the performer has is a piano, a voice and possibly a good suit. Steve Ross has a very sharp tux, and nimble fingers, but it’s his voice that really captured the audience at the National Press Club last Saturday night. It puts me in mind of Fred Astaire (whose influence as a singer was such that Mel Torme once named him as his all-time favourite vocalist). It’s a light, fragile sound, and it suits Ross’s material perfectly. Once, it reminds us, male singers actually got quieter as they got higher, as if to draw the beloved closer, and not deafen her with testosterone. “If it weren’t for unrequited love, I’d be out of a job,” Ross remarked, and his presentation of romantic material throughout the evening was a miniature how-to manual for aspiring balladeers. It’s almost impossible to perform Rodgers and Hart’s Spring is Here, Jim Croce’s Time in a Bottle and Noel Coward’s Someday I’ll Find You without a trace of irony or a hint of camp, but Ross managed it with apparent ease. He also demonstrated that he may be, apart from Dame Judi Dench, the only performer we should allow to sing Send in the Clowns. There was plenty of rhythm as well as romance, and Ross delighted his audience with little-known gems such as Johnny Mercer’s Last Night on the Back Porch.
He has a prodigious
memory for lyrics, and a lot of them were Lorenz Hart’s and Cole
Porter’s naughty original lines that never made it to
Ross plays the piano in a lush style
that I always associate with
And the piano is not merely noodling; I particularly liked the whole tone scale that plays under the mention of Debussy and Ravel in Cole Porter’s Can Can. It also takes a brave pianist to present a medley of Edith Piaf songs sans lyrics. Cabaret performers can fall into the trap of presenting mere tributes to dead songwriters, but Ross made the material his own, sometimes with little more than a sideways glance. By evening’s end he had transported a room of grateful people back to a time that probably never existed; a between-the-wars world, where reticence and understatement were sexy, and songwriting really mattered.
Peter Casey, Showman at his finest New York’s Steve Ross epitomizes what most people probably think of as cabaret: one man and his piano, dressed in tuxedo and carnation, armed with a grab-bag of devastatingly witty ditties, sentimental favourites and wicked one liners. What they might not realize is how delightfully fresh and funny these timeless tunes and this tried-and-true formula can feel in the hands of a master showman. He launches straight into a jazzy interpretation of Puttin’ on the Ritz, then reduces the audience to tears of laughter with the devastatingly clever Depression-era humor of Hungry Women. He shows a sentimental side with Irving Berlin’s melancholy What’ll I Do,? takes us striding through the ridiculous upbeat rhythms of The Unrequited Lover’s March and even tackles “modern songs” – such as 1974’s Time in a Bottle. When it’s time for Cole Porter’s I Get a Kick out of You and Anything Goes, Ross’s fingers fly across the keys, while his tongue twists in turn around the frenetically funny lyrics of Can-Can and an oyster’s unfortunate ode to social aspirations. Ross demonstrates he’s no slouch when it comes to songwriting, either, with his influences shining through brightly on Manhanttan Moon, sandwiched between some Noel Coward and the saucy closer, You’ll Have to Show It to Mother (Before You Can Show It to Me).
Patrick McDonald,
Steve Ross was born into the wrong era. You can tell from the music he performs, from the red carnation adorning his tuxedo, and from his urbane and self-effacing variant of that old-fashioned thing called charm. It all suggests the New Yorker is about 70 years out of his natural temporal milieu. Lucky us. The Ross school of cabaret is a ready-made master class for the scores of bright young things who crowd our stages with abundant talent, raucous energy and in-your-face discharges of undiluted ego. Ross makes the songs the stars of his shows, and, via his shrewdly judged readings, enchants us with his own wit, sincerity and flair. Thanks to his instinct for understatement, he slides between comedy and heartbreak astonishingly effortlessly, without the least sense of jarring. Although it is the wit – spoken, and in songs by the likes of Porter and Coward – that is immediately engaging, his treatment of more penetrating songs is just as masterful. Like the best comics, there is an aura of sadness around him, which, when he is being funny, emerges in his dry delivery. Then, rather than trowelling on the sentiment for the serious material, he sings with the poignancy of one trying to be stoic in the face of adversity. "If it weren't for unrequited love," he told us, "I'd be out of a job." He could have added that some ardent, carnal requiting helps flesh out the repertoire, too. This audience lapped up the more risque songs, such as Ladies and Gentlemen That's Love, And Her Mother Came Too and A Bar on the Piccolo Marina, all thriving on Ross's arched-eyebrow sophistication. Like the funny songs being balanced by the sad, there were also newer ones to complement the old, such as the superb Unusual Way from Maury Yeston's Nine, and Ross's own Manhattan Moon. His crisp piano playing crystallised into an elegant interlude in Some Day I'll Find You and fuelled the yearning lyric of 99 Miles From LA, one of the songs for which he darkened his breezy voice, like a mood change in the lighting. The setbacks, laughs, loves and bawdiness all glided past, as though seen through the windows of a 1930s Rolls-Royce. Called Rhythm and Romance, the ride is highly recommended.
John Shand, Woodfire Cabaret. “Steve Ross is a performer who likes to remain above the fray, frolicking in a high-rent urban time warp of his own imagining. To hear this dapper singer and pianist who has put down roots in the dining room of the Stanhope Park Hyatt Hotel (opposite the Metropolitan Museum of Art) is to absorb the Playboy philosophy as it might have been written by Noël Coward: keep things light and airy with just a dash of the bittersweet. And when life in one place becomes too dull or complicated, simply "sail away," to quote Coward's paean to the therapeutic benefits of travel. Mr. Ross's performances have nothing to do with vocal splendor, harmonic depth, pianistic virtuosity or rhythmic complexity. They're all about maintaining a cultivated facade and telling a story that camouflages the dark side of life with elegant wit. Many of the rhythms in "Rhythm and Romance," which plays through May 15, are agile fox trots played in a galloping society-piano style. That piano propels and punctuates the stories Mr. Ross spins in a dry, perfectly enunciated speech-song, illustrated here and there with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile. Coward and Fred Astaire are the twin peaks of Mr. Ross's iconography, with a sequence of five Coward songs the centerpiece of his latest show. Coward's "Bar on the Piccolo Marina," the piéce de resistance, is a chattery bonbon of period gossip about a proper English widow gone wild in Capri. The song belongs to Mr. Ross. It is almost matched in humor by Marshall Barer and David Ross's obscure "Teeny Tiny Lady," whose lyrics prove that the insistent insertion of "teeny" and tiny" into a dark scenario can make it funny” Stephen Holden, N.Y. Times, April 2004 “Under the collective title of "Rhythm and Romance," Gotham troubadour Steve Ross boasts a flexible repertoire of love songs that express varied emotions. The suave and savvy veteran of cabaret crooning suggests his bracing collection of theater and film songs can be easily categorized under the collective reflections "I was in love," "I am in love" or "I want to be in love." In his return engagement at the posh Stanhope Park Regency, Ross is a personable host for a lyrical stroll down lovers' lane.
A staple of And when is the last time you heard all of Cole Porter's deliciously clever verses for "It's De-Lovely"? It goes on forever, with five choruses boasting a heady dose of je ne sais quoi. Just when you thought you'd heard quite enough of Sondheim's "Send in the Clowns," Ross takes you back into the circus ring for yet another chance to reflect upon life's romantic misfortunes. When it comes to the legacy of
Noel Coward, there is no cabaret singer in town to match Ross' interpretive
skills. From his wildly irreverent antics of "The Bar on the Piccolo
Yeston's " There are many more pleasures here. A racing tempo braced by dazzling piano runs complements Irving Berlin's "Let Yourself Go," while Jerome Kern's "The Way You Look Tonight" is rendered as a most captivating romantic observation. For sheer unadulterated fun, "Last Night on the Back Porch -- I Loved Her Most of All" is a giddy showstopper. It's a mere eight decades old and the art of kissing has never been more delightfully defined. This time around, Ross has the luxury of Brian Kassier's full-bodied bass accompaniment to provide a nice cushion for the expansive hour that Ross fills so luxuriously.” Robert Daniels, Variety, April 2004
“Singer/pianist Steve
Ross has returned to the Of course, Ross' chief strength his interpretation of numbers displaying a dry wit, especially those by Noel Coward, and in that arena he does not disappoint, thanks to a sparkling rendition of Coward's "A Bar on the Piccolo Marina." Other comic highlights include "Teeny Tiny Lady" (Marshal Barer and David Ross), Cole Porter's "It's De-Lovely," and the very Porter-esque "Ladies and Gentlemen That's Love" (Lew Brown/Ray Henderson).” Jonathan Frank, Talkin’ Broadway, 2004 Over at the Stanhope Park Hyatt, two shows are being performed in its dining room that recall the bygone days of New York cabaret at its most elegant: Steve Ross's’ My Manhattan and Anna Bergman's Across a Crowded Room. Steve Ross, whose show celebrates his thirty-five year love affair with Manhattan, is one of the few proponents left of the 'café' style of cabaret; a more civilized and intimate form of entertainment when the music never went above a certain decibel level and the wit was as dry as the martinis. The simplicity of his delivery oftentimes brings out fresh levels of vulnerability and intimacy to his numbers, such as Cole Porter's "Down in the Depths (of the Ninetieth Floor)." Usually delivered in an ironic, self-mocking manner, the song has become a soliloquy of gentle, self-realized heartbreak in Ross's hands. Its unlikely pairing with Stephen Sondheim's "Another Hundred People" is surprisingly effective as it brings to mind another mob of people descending on the city to break one's heart. Another tender highlight of the evening is the little-known "A Tree in the Park" from Rodgers and Hart's Peggy Ann, which ranks as one of the most tender love songs composed by the team.
Ross's greatest strength is his dry wit,
which is present in all of his patter and a great many of his songs, such as
Portia Nelson's love/hate song of the city, "Confessions of a New Yorker," and
Jonathan Frank, Talkin’ Broadway
“From now until
January, Steve Ross, who is a sitdown troubadour, a minstrel at the
Gary Stevens, NNA
Manhattan may
not be the personal property of the elegant saloon singer Steve Ross, but it
would be hard to deny the rightful claim he has staked on the isle for over
three decades. The
His reedy, light baritone voice has a caressing, seductive way of involving the listener, and his spirited piano boasts uncanny assurance. His fingers gallop through complex musical figures by the likes of Sondheim, Gershwin and Fats Waller with startling and effortless assurance.
The new Ross show,
"My
The infectious
repertoire evokes some obvious musical toasts to the big city, from Rodgers and
Hart's "
Broadway legend Harry
Richman once belted "Do the
The late Portia
Nelson probably expressed it best with "I Hate/Love
And, yes, he does take a possessive stand, with Cy Coleman's own claim
on Robert
Daniels, Variety,
Over at the Stanhope Park
Hyatt, two shows are being performed in its dining room that recall the bygone
days of New York cabaret at its most elegant: Steve Ross's’ My Manhattan and Anna Bergman's Across a Crowded Room. Steve
Ross, whose show celebrates his thirty-five year love affair with
Sondheim's "Another Hundred People" is surprisingly effective as it brings to mind another mob of people descending on the city to break one's heart. Another tender highlight of the evening is the little-known "A Tree in the Park" from Rodgers and Hart's Peggy Ann, which ranks as one of the most tender love songs composed by the team.
Ross's greatest strength is his dry wit,
which is present in all of his patter and a great many of his songs, such as
Portia Nelson's love/hate song
of the city, "Confessions of a New Yorker," and
Jonathan Frank, Talkin’ Broadway Steve Ross's airy new cabaret show,
"My The show — at the Stanhope Park Hyatt Hotel through Jan. 3 — is a celebration of the unchanging allure of this city of change. As much as the skyline may have altered, the thrill of contemplating it hasn't. The same goes for the glamour of Broadway, which produced many of the program's nearly two-dozen songs. Although this debonair singer and pianist prefers an upbeat, frisky mood, his set has its reflective pauses, like Peter Allen's "6:30 Sunday Morning," that distill the lump-in-the-throat moment when personal romantic expectations fuse with a sense of Manhattan as a wondrous enchanted island. The songs of Rodgers and Hart and Cole Porter, for whom it was second nature to swoon and wink at the same time, are the emotional grounding wires of a program that also recognizes a cultural bipolarity peculiar to a city where you are likely, in the language of Porter, to find yourself "down in the depths on the 90th floor." Delivering the material in an amused Fred Astaire-like voice with a tinge of melancholy just below the brittle surface, Mr. Ross gives every bon mot and double-entendre a refined elocutionary flourish that stands as the quintessence of old-style urbanity.
“Autumn in New York, Why does it seem so exciting?” – and who better to serenade this city -- the East Side, West Side, the Ninetieth Floor penthouses -- than Steve Ross? My Manhattan, Ross’ autumn in New York show at the Stanhope Park Hyatt Hotel, affectionately salutes his town with a well paced sampling of tunes; some songs are obvious choices like Manhattan and Autumn in New York, while others, like One For My Baby (And One More For the Road), link to the city theme through Ross’s incisive observations and personal experiences. Ross is
effective pairing songs together to create an image or deliver a point. Down
in the Depths (on the Ninetieth Floor) evinces the loneliness many feel in
the midst of the throng; Ross follows this with the hectic chatter of Another
Hundred People. He selects from an eclectic song list, delivering a wry, Spider
and the Fly, the melancholy, A Tree in the Park, an urgent, I
Gotta Get Back to New York, and Ross’ own Manhattan Moon
written with Richard Crosby. The show harks back and forth from different eras,
including a medley by George M.Cohan, Sidewalks of New York by Victor
Herbert, and Peter Allen’s reflective, Sunday Morning. The dreamy,
Penthouse Serenade defines Steve Ross is
a transplanted New Yorker, but no native more evokes the spirit of Rodgers and
Hart’s, “the city’s a wondrous toy”. The Café Carlyle
has Bobby Short singing of
Cabaret Scenes Magazine At the grand piano, impeccably attired in dinner suit, complete with red rose in buttonhole, Steve Ross epitomizes the cabaret performer of the 1930 or 1940s – which is perfect, since that’s where his repertoire comes from. The debonair
His art is the ability to freshen them up, put his own stamp on the delivery of the words and play around with the accompaniments, without compromising the timeless melodies and supreme lyrics. Ross is a custodian of all that is special about the literate lyricists and creative composers from the golden age of popular song. Classic romantic ballads of the Easy to Love, I’ve Got You Under My Skin and time After Time variety are mixed in with boisterous numbers such as Let Yourself Go and I’m Throwing a Ball Tonight and witty comic songs, at which he shines. His timing and delivery of I Went to a Marvellous Party and Mrs. Worthington yields nothing to Coward himself, and his rendition of Porter’s Tale of the Oyster is unsurpassed. Deliciously funny is The Dolphin, a giddy, American revue song about the mating habits of our fishy brethren and perfect companion piece to the better-known Let’s Do It, which is Ross’s encore. Ross gets through 36 songs in the course of the show and he leaves you wanting to hear the other 800-odd tunes he could have done. Ross’s two nights at
Chapel off chapel, supported by smoky chanteuse Bille Wilde, were his first
appearances in Chapel off Chapel, Prahan, Melbourne July 9 NEW YORK
-- At a time when all things French are anathema to some Americans
because of France's failure to support the war in Iraq, balladeer Steve Ross is
performing an evening of song at the Stanhope Park Hyatt Hotel titled "An
American in "Little did I know when I was putting this show together that this situation would develop and people might not want to be reminded of anything French," Ross told UPI. "I guess my timing couldn't have been worse."
Despite
the timing, Ross's fans are flocking to the Stanhope's handsome supper room to
hear the only singer who can match the legendary Bobby Short for his debonair
approach to cabaret entertainment. Like Short, Ross accompanies himself at the
piano but without any other instrumental backup.
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