The Cat Pack

September 3, 2012

Iridium  –  August 22

The Cat Pack is the 1960s’ Rat Pack in an alternative universe—a place almost identical to the one that those earthlings lived in, but strangely devoid of tar and nicotine.

The three singers who comprise the group—Tony Apicella, Jimmy Cargill, and Sonny Von Murray—don’t impersonate Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Joey Bishop, or Sammy Davis Jr., per se. But they successfully create the kind of hip yet clownish nightclub-singing characters that might have filled the cultural void had Frank, Dean, Sammy, and Joey never existed. The Cat Pack members have all the familiar shtick down pat: the backslapping and air-punching; the friendly insults; the jokey compliments (“Sonny, you look un-frickin’-believable!” “You sound delicious!”) that would likely give the recipient a gay-panic attack if spoken in too sincere a key. It’s difficult to tell exactly how many of the spoken interjections Apicella, Cargill, and Von Murray work out ahead of time and how many are true adlibs. Which goes to show just how invested they are in these characters.

In fact, the Cat Pack’s one significant problem—at least judging by their Iridium gig—is that they spend way too much time and effort in establishing and maintaining this cocktail-night-at-the-fraternity ambience. Too many songs get smothered with all the show-offish, smart-alecky remarks. Toward the end of the set I saw, for instance, there was an interminable bit involving the dedication of a song to the memory of a dead cat. This cutesy, testosterone-fueled nonsense may have lapsed into overkill when the Rats did it in Las Vegas, too. But they were big stars and people were willing and eager to indulge them. We don’t know the Cats from film and TV and recordings. We need a period of adjustment to assess and learn to appreciate them as musicians.

On the occasions at the Iridium when they were able to present a song free of distraction, each Cat delivered the goods, and did so swingingly. Cargill succeeded with an emotional, full-throttle rendition of “You Make Me Feel So Young” (Mack Gordon, Josef Myro). Apicella’s suave baritone filled the room on “Hey There” (Jerry Ross, Richard Adler). And Von Murray showcased his cool, flexible voice to great effect on “Blame It on My Youth” (Oscar Levant, Edward Heyman). Among the group numbers I especially liked the medley in which Bertolt Brecht’s Macheath, Thornton Wilder’s Dolly Levi, and the doomed darling of the California Gold Rush, Clementine, shared the spotlight together. Bud Burridge’s arrangements were engaging throughout. The trio was backed soundly by an accomplished group of musicians: Don Rebic (music director, piano), Jon Burr (bass), Rex Benincasa (drums), Warren Vaché (trumpet), Nathan Childers (tenor sax), and Nate Mayland (trombone).

It’s a little unclear sometimes whether the trio and their director, Eric Robinson, are going for parody or homage—whether the pack is being catty or just playing copycat. But that ambiguity actually makes the act more interesting. There’s plenty to like in The Cat Pack, and I would happily attend another of their shows. And if the boys rein in that wiseacre horseplay a little, their shows will be even more enjoyable.

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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.