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An
enthusiastic crowd welcomed Karen Akers on her opening night at San Francisco's Plush
Room. Her engagement there is the first in a rich series of programs booked by
Trevor Logan in conjunction with the West Coast Cabaret Convention.
Akers makes a stunning stage appearance, with a twenties-look helmet
bob framing cheekbones a fashion model would kill for, and a wide smile that she offers
graciously and easily. She's fashionably thin, groomed with understated chic, and gives
the impression of being confident and relaxed on stage. That may be the result, in part at
least, of the thorough preparation evident in her show: Akers knows her material inside
and out and has her delivery down to a T.
She has all the tools - a buttery, round, sweet mezzo instrument which
she most often uses sparingly, but is capable of opening up to a satisfyingly full sound;
faultless breath control and pitch; and an intelligence in phrasing and the delivery of a
lyric that matches anyone in the business today.
Akers titles her current program "Haunted Heart." From her
charming and thoughtful chat between numbers, the audience learns a bit of her
expatriate's experience of longing to be wherever she's not - expressed in song in a
twined medley of an old Josephine Baker number, "J'ai duex amours" and
the American folk song, "Shenendoah." Whether in Paris by the Seine, longing for
the States, or somewhere in Virginia by the Shenendoah thinking of Paris, there's also the
element of just wishing to have the luxury of time to stop and watch the rolling river, as
it were. It is at this sort of gentle rue that Akers is at her best.
The program overall is heavily weighted with love songs - love that's
good, love that's gone wrong, typified by one telling phrase that passes quickly:
"coming together, staying alone." There's a torchy, bluesy "Paris is
a Lonely Town" (Harburg-Arlen), the highly nostalgic "Not Exactly Paris,"
Jacques Brel's "Marieke." A somewhat more contemporary sound is offered
by Randy Newman's "Feels Like Home."
As the evening wends on, it becomes clear that Akers mines a narrow range of
mood and emotion. "Paris in the Rain" does have a change of pace waltz
beat and a light comic twist, and "Sympathique" is another bit of comic relief -
if essentially a one-joke song. But it's the love gained, love lost theme that
predominates and, while Akers is a good singing actress, she never really opens herself up
emotionally. She projects a shimmering, artful surface, but the feelings are those of the
song, never those of the singer of the song. Akers holds back and she doesn't connect.
This feeling grows as the evening progresses, partly emphasized by the choice
of material, the sameness of mood. But it comes to a head in a big and important number,
the last before the encores: "Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien." Akers sings the song
beautifully and lets her voice out big for the climax. But she 's not convincing; she
hasn't plumbed the powerful emotion of this anthem to courage. The comparison to Piaf is
inevitable and invited by the choice. When Piaf sang this song she bared her soul; she
brought her own painful experiences of life to the lyric and her refusal to have
regrets was powerful, gutsy. It's a song that should grab viscerally and make the
listener feel what the singer feels.
There is, surely, a style in the cabaret tradition - Mabel Mercer
herself comes to mind - that focuses on the intellectual side: on the musicality and on
the intelligent delivery of the lyric. Karen Akers excels on those counts. If it is a
grittier connection you want with a song, though, that's not on the menu this week at the
Plush Room.
Reviewed in San Francisco, May 4, 2000 - Arthur Lazere