The Cabaret Geezerette Sings

We attended, somewhat expensively, Barbara Cook's gig 5/30 with the New York Philharmonic.

Pre-concert, we got some extra entertainment up in the peanut gallery. At 8:05, one minute before the conductor came on stage, a man came down the aisle, scrutinizing his ticket, then glancing at the rows (there are 5 in the top level). He said to the folks just ahead of us, "Where's my seat? There's no one back here to help." They replied, "We're in D."

He stepped down a row. There were 2 women on the aisle, then an empty seat. He looked again at his ticket. "You're in my seat," he said. "Now move!" The women looked at each other.

The usher stepped down. The man said, "These women are in my seat, and they won't move!" The usher checked his stub, asked the women quietly for theirs. They shifted over, the man sat down. The usher turned and climbed the stairs. "Jesus!" he said.

A woman just ahead of us, just behind the women who had moved, convulsed giggling. I said to her, "Feel like you got your money's worth?" She nodded vigorously.

As a lapsed trombonist, it did my heart good to hear the orchestra bang out '76 Trombones' before Ms. Cook came on stage. Though the trombone is a much-loved and longed-for solo instrument, it has been mysteriously neglected by symphonic composers in favor of the horn and strings. But tonight the section declared itself, however briefly.

Ms. Cook is 80. Her vocal cords are 80. This was strikingly evident in her opening song, the title of which I have suppressed. Her voice was thin, her intonation approximate -- though she showed remarkably good judgment on whether to slide it back to pitch when she missed. She tended to be about an eighth of a step flat when going toward the top of her range.

She sang for 1 hour 20 minutes, remarkable stamina for a Rubinesque old blonde. She is a great musician, voice or no voice. This reminds me of hearing Louie Armstrong sing in the 1950's, when I was in grade school. I then had the strong bias that singing should be beautiful. Then I heard Armstrong. I was at first shocked that they let him sing, yet this cracked open my narrow brain, to ever after look for things other than sweetness in music, an important step in my education.

At the end of the concert, her voice seemed that of a different person. It had timbre, resonance, and pitch. As encore, she sang 'What a Wonderful World' with no microphone. She didn't fill the hall, but even we in the peanut gallery could hear her, and her voice was free of the subtle distortions of amplified sound.

A great concert by a great old musician.