Clark Warren

May 22, 2014

Clark WarrenA self-described member of “the geezerhood,” Clark Warren surely deserves a nicer-sounding appellation. After all, this gentleman of a certain age evinces many of the admirable qualities of advanced years: self-confidence, curiosity, a firm grasp on his field of endeavor, a spirit of adventure, and no-nonsense delivery of whatever he wants to say or sing, when he wants to say it or sing it. He is far from being a “Mean Old Man,” as the James Taylor song has it, and as Clark delights in singing. In the baker’s dozen numbers in his show, “Lucky So & So: Jazz & Standards with a Twist,” Warren demonstrates a range of interest that is beyond eclectic. His “twist” on these songs does not employ the usual tools of jazz singers, such as altered lyrics or changed tempos, and never mind scats and trills. No, Warren rather goes after the lesser-known songs of well-known composers, such as “Centerpiece” (Jon Hendricks, Harry “Sweets” Edison) or “Walkin’ Shoes” (Bobby Troup, Gerry Mulligan). The Troup canon even provides the show’s title song of sorts: “Lemon Twist,” which Warren delivers with the visual aid of a glass of brown liquid on the rocks containing a piece of the named citrus peel for Clark to play with as he sings. Another twist comes via gender-bending, as Warren sings a perfectly creditable, masculine “Summertime” (George Gershwin, DuBose Heyward, Ira Gershwin), a song universally associated with sopranos some decades younger.

When Warren does perform a familiar song, it might be in an unlikely medley. “I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart” (Duke Ellington, Henry Nemo, John Redmond, Irving Mills) is paired with two Jule Styne/Sammy Cahn numbers: “It’s You or No One” and “As Long as There’s Music.” Even a likely medley, such as “Nancy (With the Laughing Face)” (Jimmy Van Heusen, Phil Silvers) combined with “That Face” (Lew Spence, Alan Bergman) comes with a twist, albeit in the form of a spoken introduction. Warren’s wife, Gaile, was the daughter of an NBC staff director/producer, Wendell Gibbs, who was enlisted in 1948 and 1949 to help Frank Sinatra perfect his microphone technique for radio. The two men bonded and discovered they had daughters about the same age. One day Sinatra recorded a one-sided 78 rpm transcription especially to send to the young Miss Gibbs. It began, “Hi Gaile,” and continued with the singer talking about his own daughter and offering to sing a song especially written about her. The recording ends with Sinatra singing “Nancy with the Laughing Face.” The Warrens still have the record and it provides a touching introduction to Clark’s medley, with him picking up the singing honors on “Nancy.”

It would have been even more effective if Warren had slowed down and told the complete anecdote himself, instead of glossing over it quickly as if for friends and family who had heard it all before and only needed a quick reminder. The rest of us in the audience were left in the dark; I had to reach out to Gaile Warren, herself, to fill in the blanks in the back story. This is the downside of Warren’s casual approach to cabaret, which at times seems as if he’s a man pulled out of retirement to sing a few quick numbers at a party in someone’s living room. When the audience is filled with familiar faces, as it clearly was opening night, they will put up with a few uses of the sentence, “Let’s see, what am I going to sing next?” The strangers in the audience will want more order and context, and a more cohesive through line.

Still, the songs themselves are mostly a treat, insightfully interpreted and forcefully delivered, especially “Take Five” (Paul Desmond) and “I Like to Recognize the Tune” (Rodgers & Hart). Warren’s lucky thirteenth song, not exactly an encore, is an exuberant “On the Sunny Side of the Street” (Jimmy McHugh, Dorothy Fields. It was the second time in two weeks I’d heard this chestnut in a cabaret act, the first time being in the show of 28-year-old Alexa Ray Joel. It’s nice to know that this song is making a cross-generational cabaret comeback. It’s even nicer to see that the sunny side of the street is where Clark Warren chooses to live, and where he belongs. His able musicians are Dan Furman on piano, Jon Burr on bass, and David Silliman on drums. (Dave Meade steps in for Silliman at the May 30 show.)

“Lucky So & So: Jazz & Standards with a Twist” 
Metropolitan Room  –  April 12, May 30

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About the Author

Robert Windeler is the author of 18 books, including biographies of Mary Pickford, Julie Andrews, Shirley Temple, and Burt Lancaster. As a West Coast correspondent for The New York Times and Time magazine, he covered movies, television and music, and he was an arts and entertainment critic for National Public Radio. He has contributed to a variety of other publications, including TV Guide, Architectural Digest, The Sondheim Review, and People, for which he wrote 35 cover stories. He is a graduate of Duke University in English literature and holds a masters in journalism from Columbia, where he studied critical writing with Judith Crist. He has been a theatre critic for Back Stage since 1999, writes reviews for BistroAwards.com, and is a member of The Players and the American Theatre Critics Association.