Jo Thompson

April 4, 2013

“Slender, Tender and Tall: An Evening with the Fabulous Ms. Jo Thompson”

Café Carlyle  –  March 21, 22, 23, 28, 30

Jo_ThompsonThose who demand an orderly, meticulously crafted cabaret act should probably steer clear of Jo Thompson. They can give up their seats to the rest of us.

As a pianist, this singular performer—who’s been appearing in nightclubs since the 1940s—is anything but dainty-fingered. An unapologetic honky-tonker, she wallops the keyboard as though pounding a flank steak with a meat mallet. At one point early in the show I saw—during a particularly boisterous moment—she hollered out, in reference to the piano keys, “Gotta slap ’em!”

Thompson’s sturdy and seasoned vocal cords produce plenty of fascinating sounds, relatively few of which could be called “pretty”. On “Bye Bye Blackbird” (Roy Henderson, Mort Dixon), Thompson gave us a few bars of Mae West. On the red-hot “Fine Brown Frame” (Guadalupe Cartiero, J. Mayo Williams) she dished like Sophie Tucker, screamed, and let fly with a she-wolf howl or two. During roughly half of the songs she sang at the Carlyle, she at some point erupted into a spot-on Louis Armstrong impersonation. It seems almost like a reflex: with certain musical phrases Thompson just automatically slips into Satchmo, more smoothly than some singers slip from chest voice to head voice.

Between songs, Thompson tends to ramble—she’ll take a few minutes to relate an anecdote that other performers would zip through in a few brisk sentences. But as she talks, she seems almost to transport herself back in time before your eyes, reliving the memories. And what memories they are: working for Billy Rose, going to pool parties with Liberace, sitting down at a nightclub table with Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner (and breaking a color barrier in the bargain). Thompson beams as she tells her tales. She cracks herself up. She can be as delightful as she is delighted—if you’re of a mind to go the distance with her.

A few songs in her Carlyle set stood out. Her burn-the-place-down version of Leiber and Stoller’s “I’m a Woman” was a highlight. So was her playful, ambling “Walkin’ My Baby Back Home” (Roy Turk, Fred E. Ahlert). And toward the end of the show she killed with a sexy, bluesy, funky, and funny “Million Dollar Secret” (Helen Humes, Jules Bihari).

Thompson clearly loves to jam. She had solid support from her bassist (Yaz) and her drummer (Mike Campenni). Watching Thompson watch her musicians take their solo turns is a joyous experience. Her eyes light up and she bursts into a sweet, proud-mother smile—tickled by her boys’ talent and style.

Some singers of a certain age fall back on such songs as Sondheim’s “I’m Still Here” to publicly commemorate their longevity. But Jo Thompson doesn’t need to announce that she’s still kicking. She just kicks. When she launches into her scatty “Za-za-za” and “Va-va-va” riffs on “Just a Gigolo” (Irving Caeser, Leonello Casucci, Julius Brammer), she makes it clear that she’s been rolling merrily along for decade after decade simply because, hey, that’s what she does.

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About the Author

Mark Dundas Wood is an arts/entertainment journalist and dramaturg. He began writing reviews for BistroAwards.com in 2011. More recently he has contributed "Cabaret Setlist" articles about cabaret repertoire. Other reviews and articles have appeared in theaterscene.net and clydefitchreport.com, as well as in American Theatre and Back Stage. As a dramaturg, he has worked with New Professional Theatre and the New York Musical Theatre Festival. He is currently literary manager for Broad Horizons Theatre Company.