RAY JESSEL
to the Ridiculous!
Photo: E.K. Waller (323) 662-3686
I have never done Cabaret. I have always done Cabaret. A contradiction? Well, yes and no!
My songs have often been performed in Cabaret, but before now they have always been performed by others. True, I've been lucky enough to have them sung by such extraordinary cabaret artists as Michael Feinstein, John Pizzarelli, Karen Akers, David Campbell and Bruce Vilanch--to name a few. But I have never performed the songs myself before now. (If you don't count the innumerable "backers' auditions" Marian Grudeff and I did for "BAKER STREET"). So why start now?
I guess the short, simple answer is it's time--and I'm finally ready. The long, complicated answer is, well, long and complicated. Let me try not to be too long and too complicated.
Between writing show songs, and "serious" songs, I have, from time to time, written what I call my "silly" songs--i.e. mad songs in, I hope, the glorious tradition of Kalmar & Ruby, Allan Sherman, Tom Lehrer, Flanders & Swann, Ronnie Graham and Marshall Barer. Now there is no place for such songs in the contemporary record world. You don't get many laughs from a Mariah Carey CD--not intentional ones, at any rate! Madly comic songs can only be performed at parties (it was at one of Marshall Barer's parties that I first performed some of these songs)--or in Cabaret. Why? Because they require an attentive, literate audience that is willing to really listen to lyrics. These days there are precious few audiences like that outside of Cabaret. Some years ago, Michael Feinstein started singing some of my "sillies" in his act ("Oxnard" and "The Things You Do"). At the time he told me that I really should be out there doing them myself. Though I was thrilled he was getting laughs with the material, I knew he was right, but I wasn't ready. For one thing, at that time I didn't have enough "sillies" to make an evening. Well, I kept on writing, and now I do.
But it's not just about the funny songs. The "real" songs I write (these days with Cynthia Thompson--my partner in life as well as songwriting) are songs that I hope are in the tradition of the Classic American Songbook. Sorely missing from most of the songs we hear on the radio today is a quality of songwriting craftsmanship that has been handed down to us from the Johnny Mercers and the Harold Arlens (to mention just two of my gods). Some of us are still trying, I hope not vainly, to keep that tradition of craftsmanship alive. The kind of songs we write ("silly" or otherwise) require a literate, attentive audience--the Cabaret audience.
But there is no way Cynthia and I could be out there pitching our songs to each and every cabaret performer in the hope that one or the other might want to sing a couple of them. Most cabaret artists are happy just singing the classics of the American Songbook--and why not? The catalog is huge and there's great stuff to be sung. To get heard at all, our songs have to compete with the best that have ever been written. If you've got all of Gershwin and Kern and Berlin and Porter and Sondheim to choose from--why do you need Jessel & Thompson's stuff? I realised that the best way to get our efforts out of our little studio and into the world is to sing them myself. So I guess one of the reasons I'm finally performing is because I owe it to the songs. Like children, once they're born, they have to be cared for.
As I write this, I realise one of the reasons that I haven't performed before is that I'm old enough to have grown up in a time when there was a separation of crafts. Songwriters wrote. Singers performed. Bing sang what Johnny Burke and Jimmy Van Heusen wrote. Sinatra sang what Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne wrote. Each respected the other's craft. In that world, I felt my job was to write the best songs I could and hope that they'd be picked up by the best singers around. I had some moderate successes in that world, but that world doesn't exist any more. It's the world of the Singer/Songwriter. So why fight it?
But perhaps some (all?) of this is merely a rationalisation for a fear of performing. Did I have such a fear? But of course. (Oh, I could sing for friends at parties. But before a real (gulp!) paying audience? No way.!) Do I have that fear now? No. Why not? God knows. Maybe I've arrived at an age where I don't give a hoot what people think of me, whether I "bomb" or not. (To be honest, a little financial security, which writing comedy for television eventually afforded me, doesn't hurt either!) And maybe I've arrived at some maturity, some level of self-confidence that I didn't have before. For which thank you, Cynthia! As the song says. "God only knows what I'd be without you!"
It was Cynthia who prodded me to go to a Vocal Coach. Boy, was she right! And I'm lucky to have found a great one--Deborah Shulman. Thank you, Deborah. You're amazing. The Gardenia now--tomorrow the Met!
And friends have helped. It was Shelly Goldstein (a terrific performer who writes her own hilarious songs and parodies--catch her upcoming shows at the Gardenia!) who finally coaxed me late last year into joining her on her sorties to various Open Mic nights around town. It was at MaryJo Mundy's "Mundy on Tuesdays" at the Gardenia (Let's hear it for Mary Jo!) and at piano bars like the Oasis (Give it up for Bryan Miller!) that I got myself used to performing. Just as Shelly said, there was no pressure. I could just have fun. Thank you, Shelly. And a huge boost has been the laughs and applause and encouragement I received from the other performers who show up at these Open Mics to practice their craft and support each other. Thanks, fellow performers! Thanks, Greg Marx and Maude Maggart and Lotte Trouble and Deborah Downey and....and....and....
Up to now my life as a composer/lyricist has always been behind the scenes. But now it's time to "Come To The Cabaret"! I look forward to seeing you there.