Nicolas King

June 19, 2011

Don’t Tell Mama  –  June 4 – 7

The first time I heard Nicolas King sing was when I played his CD, “Nineteen”—which, not coincidentally, is his age. I could say that I was quite impressed, but that would be like describing the Empire State Building as rather tall. To use a term I don’t believe I’ve ever used before in my writing, I was blown away. He gave every song a vision, a point of view, an attitude—he was a song stylist, not simply a singer. What’s more, his technique was smooth and unfailing, his approach seemed effortless, and his swinging coolness came across as though it was his mother tongue. And, God, what assurance—and only nineteen! He had an audacious openness, a lack of reserve, that put me in mind of Bobby Darin—and to be compared to Bobby Darin is about the highest praise a male singer of the pop/jazz genre can be given.

He has been performing regularly since the age of four, and over the years he’s appeared in a few Broadway shows, musical and non-. While all of this experience has certainly contributed to his confidence, polish, and virtuosity, it isn’t sufficient to completely explain them; the other source is his unmistakable and rather remarkable talent.

The extraordinary qualities he exhibits on his recording were on display at his recent show at Don’t Tell Mama—at least they were some of the time. They were certainly there in a bravura performance of a wonderful Cy Coleman medley, and they were in command when he delivered an on-the-money rendition of “The Money Tree,” a Kander & Ebb big ballad. And he showed himself to be a consummate showman with Dorothy Fields and Jerome Kern’s “Pick Yourself Up,” complete with vocal ornamentation, references to J.S. Bach, and commentary about Fred and Ginger—a great arrangement by Mike Renzi, who throughout the evening accompanied on piano, joined by Bill Hayes on drums and Chip Jackson on bass.

Though his virtues were evident in many of the other numbers, they were often undermined by regrettable choices. Because I believe his need for corrective action is critical, I’ll focus on the problems. A significant one was his painful attempts to be hip. With the Gershwins’ “There’s a Boat Dat’s Leavin’ Soon for New York,” he inserted “yeah!” at the end of lines. In his wrongheaded rendition of Irving Berlin’s “I Love a Piano,” the lyric “I know a fine way/ to treat a Steinway” became “I know a fine way/ you gotta treat a Steinway”, then later it became “…you just gotta treat that old Steinway,” and soon after that we got, ugh, “keep your fiddle, baby.” When members of the Rat Pack and others of their stripe did this, it was exceedingly tacky and rather obnoxious; when a 19-year-old does it, it is all that and, in addition, unbecoming and unconvincing. These egregious excesses are completely absent from the CD, which was recorded and produced mainly in June/July 2010—so, why now?

In doing Sam Coslow’s “You’ll Have to Swing It (Mr. Paganini),” his vocal production and mannerisms were, at times, like a Judy Garland take-off. Not so on the CD. “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” (Bob Crewe, Bob Gaudio) lacked an overarching, integrating vision. He told us that at age eleven he was taken with the simplicity of Nancy Wilson’s approach and decided to revamp his own and “just sing,” and he followed with “Where Is Love?” (Lionel Bart) and “Blame It on My Youth” (Edward Heyman, Oscar Levant); yes, his interpretations were simple, but his acting showed (obvious facial gestures, self-conscious pauses). Again, there are no problems with his performance of these two ballads on the CD.

Though this is a less crucial problem, there was far too much patter about himself. I don’t know whether that resulted from a misguided notion that cabaret performers are supposed to tell us about themselves, or it stemmed from his belief that we should be oh-so-interested in him; I do hope it’s the former, because that can be easily corrected. Also, his patter didn’t always make a clear point or form a logical lead-in to the song that followed.

Finally, what should have been a splendid performance of Rodgers and Hart’s “Johnny One Note” was marred by a set-up that was much too long—especially considering that it was his encore—and by many “cute” interjections. I am not suggesting that he not take stylistic liberties—what I maintain is that they must make sense—i.e., be consistent with both the song, itself, and with his interpretation of it. He did this successfully in a few numbers, most notably with the previously mentioned “Pick Yourself Up” and with a fresh and wholly convincing performance of an appealingly and genuinely hip “I won’t Grow Up” (Carolyn Leigh, Moose Charlap) and a cool, swinging “I Got No Strings” (Leigh Harline, Ned Washington).

Nicolas King has been getting a lot of attention from important people, and his career appears to be on the brink of something big. But he also seems to be at a crossroads artistically, and though he appears to have taken a wrong turn, I don’t know in which direction he will go in the future. Will his CD prove to be an early step in the development of a world-class pop/jazz singer, or will he become the kind of Las Vegas-style performer that wows the undiscriminating lowest common denominator. He’s been appearing monthly as Terese Genecco’s guest in her long running last-Tuesday-of-the-month engagement at The Iridium. I hope he will use that as a learning experience, a chance to shed bad practices and grow. It will be very sad if he doesn’t, a magnificent promise unfulfilled.

 


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About the Author

Roy Sander has been covering cabaret and theatre for over thirty years. He’s written cabaret and theatre reviews, features, and commentary for seven print publications, most notably Back Stage, and for CitySearch on the Internet. He covered cabaret monthly on “New York Theatre Review” on PBS TV, and cabaret and theatre weekly on WLIM-FM radio. He was twice a guest instructor at the London School of Musical Theatre. A critic for BistroAwards.com, he is also the site’s Reviews Editor; in addition, he is Chairman of the Advisory Board of MAC.