By her own admission, her show, Something Old, Something New is a kind of 'trash 'n' treasure'. But Ali McGregor, as it turns out, can turn just about any old 'trash' into treasure. Of course, both she and I are being dismissive in referring to trash: one man or woman's trash is another's treasure and it's a conceit to believe, if you happen to be, for example, an opera fanatic, the only decent songs are to be found in that genre. In other words, good songs, as McGregor is quick to point out, can be found anywhere and should be treasured. And if you think, 'yes, but surely there are some boundaries, some standards!', which might rule out, say, Britney, or JT (Justin Timberlake, her cuckold), just hold your fire, at least until you've heard McGregor's takes.Of course, at her disposal is a trained, experienced operatic voice and 'one of Australia's best jazz pianists', Sam Keevers, as arranger, musical director and pianist. His style is rhythmic and robust, which you might surmise would make for a stark contrast, given McGregor's professional heritage, but one evening with her will prove she's equally rhythmic and robust. Among other qualities, one of which is her confident, colourful, sassy, sexy theatricality, which comes with a side-order of impeccable comic timing.
Her patter isn't deeply personal, or poignant, in the faux way of much cabaret; rather, she seems happy to keep it light and stamp her own style on the underexposed entertainment genre. And entertainment is the name of the game here. Fun, unpretentious, but underpinned with incredible musicality, superb dynamics and spectacular vocal feats, some of which are so breathtaking and 'death-defying', as to be almost circus-worthy. As luck would have it, she began with one of my all-time favourite songs, a Gershwin brothers classic, distinguished even among their insuperable catalogue. The Man I Love gets me where I live within, literally, the first few, unmistakable bars. Better yet, McGregor doesn't oversing it, or overplay the emotion: she knows it's intrinsic and needs little, if anything, more than a caress of what's already there. Of course, it wasn't always so. The Man I Love was originally The Girl I Love, penned for the 1924 musical, Lady Be Good, but it was struck from the show, just as it was, effectively, a few years later, from the anti-war satire Strike Up The Band, which closed during out-of-town tryouts and, yet again, just a year or so later, from the Ziegfield's Rosalie. But, one day, it came along, not least in Ella's care, and McGregor's reading does justice to even that. Despite it's girlish and, originally, boyish pining, I've always found this song to be unusually touching and sad (Nancy King has described how her interpretation matured from naive to tragic): McGregor manages to bring these qualities, and more still, to bear.
Cry Me A River was written for Ella (by Arthur Hamilton, in 1953), but it might as well have been written for Ali Mac, for she gives little, if anything, away. (Synchronistically, though penned for the musical Pete Kelly's Blues, it, too was struck. What is it with patently great, moving and poignant songs that just don't cut it in the context of musicals?) Again, Mac has the maturity to realise the bitterness is implicit, needing no over-emphasis. She sits back, before segueing into another song, of the same title, by Timberlake. For mine, it's much the lesser of the two, though between Keevers and Mac, they manage to stitch them together seamlessy, almost as if compositional equals. That takes some arranging and delivery. Bravo!
Sweet Dreams will be well-known to latter day baby boomers and sundry others, being The Eurythmics quintessential, centrepiece hit, which AMac transforms into something much more languid, taking it from the dance floor to the bedroom. Sweet dreams are indeed made of this and you could travel the world and the seven seas and never hear as fine an adaptation.
Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered was an inspired selection: I'm often disappointed by the lack of imagination shown in copycat set lists of standards. This is one I don't hear nearly so often. In fact, not nearly often enough. Again, Ella's is very arguably the definitive rendition, but this Rodgers and Hart show tune harks back as far as 1940 and the musical for which it was written, Pal Joey. It was Vivienne Segal who sang it then and she that revived it, on record, a decade later and, again, for a Broadway revival, in '52. AMac revives it one more time, breathing new life and meaning into its insightful lyric, but not before relating her experience of singing it for Cleo Laine, who advised her to fall in love with the wrong man and then revisit it. McGregor explains how she did just that, a few times, just to be sure. Laine also blessed the still young, apparently naive McGregor with the interpretive skinny on how suggestive the song is; a lowdown the disciple has clearly taken on-board. But she also communicates the aching tragedy of the song: the repetitive strain injury incurred from succumbing, time and again, to love, lust, or infatuation. Not even a whole quart of brandy can numb that pain.
Lola, the character played by the singer, whoever she (or he) may be, in Whatever Lola Wants is the devil's assistant. (I used to think that was Gina Rhinehart but, of course, it's he that works for her.) Richard Adler & Jerry Ross wrote it, for Damn Yankees, the '55 musical play. Reputedly, it was inspired by Lola Montez, the Irish 'Spanish' dancer, notorious vamp and mistress of King Ludwig I, of Bavaria. Lola could shrink any man down to actual size and that's just what McGregor does, with a witheringly saucy, sassy articulation.
Hoagy Carmichael wrote songs like none else and I s'pose it fell to Ray Charles to give us the categorical Georgia (On My Mind), 'though I lean towards the original, sung by Hoagy himself, in 1930. I'm not sure how many people know it to be the official song of its namesake state. I hope that doesn't spoil it for all of you who've always thought it to be about a woman and who might still prefer it that way. But fret not, because lyricist, Stu Gorrell, wrote it about and in dedication to Hoagy's sister. I'll leave it to you to guess her name. The interesting thing is that Hoagy actually wrote the music about the state. Anyway, the point is, you can adhere to whichever loyalties you like: Ali ensures it has all the pathos you'd want. It might be just an old, sweet song, but she'll keep it on your mind for a while after.
It's a long way from Hoagy to Aqua, the Danish-Norwegian dance-pop group that released Barbie Girl in 1997. Yet, that's the leap of faith in her abilities Ms Mac would have us take. She prefaces it by expressing her affection for that scene in The Fabulous Baker Boys, in which Michelle Pfeiffer makes a grand piano her bed. What's not to like? Yes, this is her Making Whoopee, though for occupational health and safety reasons she doesn't emulate Pfeiffer's turn, beyond the vocal dimension. It seems timely. What with the elderly woman taking photos and calls on her iYiYi, or whatever it was, one has to believe life in plastic is truly fantastic.
I've always liked and admired Fine Young Cannibals' Johnny, Come Home. it might be somewhat disguised by its punchy, upbeat guise, but it has an urgency and poignancy that, I propose, is undeniable. Anyone who's ever been deeply troubled or associated with someone who is (and surely that's just about all of us) will feel a wrench when they hear 'nobody knows the trouble you feel; nobody cares the feelin' is real'. It's insightful, empathic and authentic. And Ms McGregor communicates all of those qualities. Yes, she leaps tall orders in a single song.
Undoubtedly the standout song of the evening, for mine, however, was I Was Made For Loving You. That's right, Kiss. Ali reckons it's about the most tender love song ever written and now that I've heard the Keevers/McGregor version, I'm most inclined to agree. From full-tilt, throbbing rock 'n' roll to a tenderised ballad. Not even Evil Knievel would jump that canyon. But Ali and her audience made the gentlest touchdown, despite the chasm. Ali McGregor endows Paul Stanley, Des Child and Vini Poncia's hard hit with a new lease of life, on the not-so-wild side. The mild side, I s'pose. 'Tonight, I want to give it all to you' doesn't necessarily have to be a statement of mere machismo sexual ambition. It can also be a statement of the utmost generosity of spirit. Yes, really.
Salt 'n' Pepa's Push It isn't the first song that prints to mind when you think opera diva goes cabaret. But it's a lot of bumping, grinding fun, that's for sure and, after all, apart from any other successes, it's on Rolling Stone's list of the 500 Greatest Songs Of All Time. McGregor got all hip-hoperatic and excitable and so did I. Ooh, baby, baby!
Oops! I Did It Again. McGregor isn't the first cabaret artist to lampoon or nod in homage (or perhaps both, at once) to Britney. And let's face it, it doesn't really matter whether you love or loathe BJ Spears of McComb, Mississippi, this is one terrific song. It was written by Max Martin and Rami Yacoub for the pop princess' second album, of the same name. I've been amused to read of MTV's Jocelyn Vena's in-depth analysis of the lyrics, She reckons it "reflected Spears' evolution from naughty schoolgirl to intergalactic sex kitten". Quite a transition. Not. Anyway, McGregor, as with all the other songs in her set, reinvents it as her very own, teasing it out, imbuing it with a kind of knowingness and worldliness Britney just wasn't and probably still isn't up to. After all, she is BJ Spears of McComb, Mississippi.
(By the by, to pepper her act with even more surprises, Mac isn't above interpolating the odd vocal trick. I think it was during this song she did her hyper-chipmunk impression, which sounded for all the world like a sped-up tape. Cute. And skilful.)
Summertime, for all its gloriousness, might be regarded as one of the most over-exposed songs in cabaret and jazz. It takes someone and something very, very special to surpass, say, Billie's 1936 recording, but the big-voiced Mac does something truly splendid, stepping well back from the microphone to render it as the aria it is, before segueing into a more popular music vocal idiom. It's a breathtaking way to end a very thoughtfully conceived, well-written, superbly arranged and charismatically performed show. When's the return season, Slide? We want Ali! Well, I do, anyway.
Slide presents
Something Old, Something New
Ali McGregor
Venue: Slide, 41 Oxford Street Darlinghurst
Date: 30 May, 2012
Tickets: Dinner and Show $60.00 | Show Only $25.00
Visit: www.slide.com.au
