REVIEW: MargOH! Channing is Tipsy!

originally published by edgenewyork.com 4/3/12

MargOH! Channing bills herself as the most decorated extra in the history of motion pictures and television. Born to an inbred and intolerant family in Bangor, Maine, MargOH! was rescued by a "drunk slut" aunt and whisked away to be raised in the glamorous confines of a brothel.

She overcame her rather checkered past with a new name inspired by the acid-tongued Bette Davis in All About Eve and gained new confidence from picking herself up "by the bra-straps." She then obtained a measure of notoriety in Hollywood before settling here in New York to focus on inserting herself into the downtown scene as one of Manhattan’s premiere cabaret divas. "MargOH! Channing is Tipsy" is the latest installment of her ongoing serial of autobiographical shows chronicling her harrowing journey to hell and back.

In truth, MargOH! Channing is the drag persona of performance artist BT Shea. Shea has endowed MargOH! with a hilariously absurd backstory, but he draws the character with such honesty, truth, subtlety, and vulnerability, that she becomes -- if only for a couple hours -- a living, breathing person. Henceforth and therefore, this review will refer to Ms. Channing not as a character, but as the star of her own one-woman show.

Perhaps "tipsy" is in the eye of the beholder, but as far as I could tell the title of her show is a major understatement. Ms. Channing was so visibly drunk that she had to be walked out onto the stage and propped against her microphone by her gal-pal, the celebrated drag queen and gorgeous ex-con Flotilla DeBarge.

Through slurred (and sometimes inaudible) speech, Ms. Channing spoke of her life’s humble beginnings as the daughter of New England fishmongers from the "school of hard knockers." With every wrong recounted, she poured herself another drink: perhaps to keep the emotions flowing, perhaps to dull the pain.

Ms. Channing is a singer who understands her limits as a vocalist, and even warned us that her voice may be a little "scratchy." But what she lacked in pitch and tone, she sure made up for in her ability to fearlessly and shamelessly emote. It’s clear why she detests cheap sentiment: the bitch can sell a song.

She transitioned from Tom Waits’ maudlin "Shiver Me Timbers," which she imbued with heartbreaking genuineness, to "Rusty Warren’s novelty "Bounce Your Boobies," that underheard, ironic feminist anthem.

This medley illustrated for Ms. Channing’s audience the very essence of drag: the pain of leaving behind one’s family, friends, and identity in order to seek out another life where beauty, glamour, and fantasy reign supreme. Drag queens empower themselves by choosing illusion over hard truth. That’s sad, and also beautiful.

In the tradition of Victor Hugo’s "Notre-Dame de Paris" Ms. Channing marries the sublime and the grotesque in a show that transcends its comedic trappings to become the portrait of a woman whose dreams have been dashed but whose hope springs eternal.

Her whispered and wistful rendition of "Everything Changes" was devastating. I only wish it had come later in the show, because for me it was climactic.

Throw in an earnest tribute to Amy Winehouse, a couple of glitter-dipped back-up singers, and a duet with Ms. DeBarge, and "MargOH! Channing is Tipsy" became a hilarious hodgepodge of performance art, stand-up comedy, cabaret, theater, and drag. We are allowed to see MargOH! at her best and at her worst, somehow at the same time. It’s that fine-tuned duplicity that makes her so real.

Watching the performance was like seeing a cat thrown from a roof: you pity it, you fear for it, you witness its desperate flip-flopping. But then it lands on its feet, and you marvel at the grace of it all.

"MargOH! Channing is Tipsy" played on March 30 at Dixon Place, 161A Chrystie Street. For information on MargOH! Channing’s future shows, visit margohchanning.blogspot.com.

Review: Marieann Meringolo's "You Must Believe in Spring!"

Early in her set at uptown supper club Feinstein’s at Loews Regency, Marieann Meringolo asked her audience coolly and without irony, “Would you choose to be reincarnated for your lover?”

“No,” cried a voice from the audience, evoking a roar of laughter from the sparsely populated room.

Unscathed, Ms. Meringolo replied, “Well, you’re really going to have to use your imagination for these next few pieces.”

And she carried on, singing her collection of songs by Michel Legrand, most of which featured maudlin lyrics by sap-squad Alan and Marilyn Bergman.

That moment illustrated the inherent disconnection from her audience that Ms. Meringolo worked hard to bridge throughout her performance.  I’m not sure she ever managed to, but she certainly did try.

In cabaret performance the banter between songs is almost as important as the tunes themselves.  It serves to expose the real person beneath the characters, stripping away the artifice thereby endearing the performer to her audience.  Also, it should offer a light-hearted break from the sometimes high drama of the musical numbers. 

Ms. Meringolo’s songs were ballads: some loud, some soft, all saccharine.  The banter that should have been a respite after each foray into the Bergmans’ dated, schmaltzy sentimentality became instead an extension of it.

After singing songs with lyrics like “The world is like an apple whirling silently in space,” she chose to describe her relationship with music in this way: “The words of a song are the wine in a glass, and the music is the way I drink it into my soul.”

As directed by Eric Michael Gillett, this show was just too much heavy, serious emotion.  Even Macbeth had the porter scene to lighten the mood.

And then there’s the singing.  Ms. Meringolo is a singer of considerable strength and stamina.  She is at her best when she is understated and gentle, but she simply cannot resist the urge to finish every song with a modulation followed by a full-throated fortissimo. 

The best song of the evening, “Pieces of Dreams,” found Ms. Meringolo standing plaintively on stage, without vocal histrionics or melodic embellishments.  Her simple, straightforward crooning was sweet and pretty, and it conveyed the melancholic longing in the song’s lyrics.  For a moment, she was Streisand.  But then the band changed keys, and she put the pedal to the metal. 

Rather than “drinking the music into my soul,” like a glass of that lyrical wine she spoke about, the ending had all the subtlety of a frat-party keg stand.

A recipient of both Backstage Bistro and MAC Awards, Ms. Meringolo should stop trying to prove herself as a vocal powerhouse, and instead focus on telling stories with her songs.  The voice is there, and it is fine.  If she would let the song be the star, her talent would shine even brighter.  When a singer’s power is greater than her passion, it can raise questions about her artistic credibility.  Look at Christina Aguilera. 

Ms. Meringolo seemed perfectly at home in the beautiful, intimate, Feinstein’s, singing her concert “You Must Believe in Spring!”  She joined the audience off the stage for a number or two.  Once, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror that happened to be across the room, and briefly sang to her own reflection.  It was in these moments that she was most accessible, because they were charming in their casualness.

And I must mention her band.  The obviously well rehearsed trio of musicians had the benefit of being led by pianist Doyle Newmyer.  Ms. Meringolo, too, would have benefitted from such masterful guidance.  I can’t wait to see her perform a concert in which she herself is properly directed.

Marieann Meringolo’s "You Must Believe in Spring!" runs through March 18 at Feinstein’s at Loews Regency, Park Ave & 61st St. For info or tickets call 212-339-4095 or visit feinsteinsattheregency.com 

Martha Wainwright at City Winery

I didn't want my blog to turn into a place where I simply talk about the shows I see. But I just couldn't leave this one out.  Last night at City Winery, that ethereal pixie Martha Wainwright graced the stage for a beautiful set of music both masterfully played and brilliantly sung.  I have to confess I was not familiar with her music before last night, but believe me: today I'm a bona fide fan.
But first let's talk about the opening act. Nath Ann Carrera was nothing short of a breath of fresh air.  He appeared onstage wearing a very short, plain white dress and a blue turban looking like a cross-dressing amalgam of Nurse Ratched, Norma Desmond and Jackie O.  His guitar playing was simple, his deep baritone not always in tune, but he was fascinating to watch.  He spoke like some observer/activist/monologuist robot gone haywire.  And like Sandra Bernhard, the songs didn't mean much without the banter.  Before singing what he called a "cultish lesbian separatist murder ballad" based on real-life prison interviews with the cellmates of Susan Atkins, a member of the infamous Manson Family, he recited (in character?) the disturbing yet kooky things these women had said.  Later, before singing one of her songs, he called Karen Carpenter one of the first people "to be thrown under the bus by gender fundamentalism."  He ended his short set with--of all things--Hank Williams's "On the Banks of the Old Ponchartrain."  I'm sorry I don't have any pictures of Nath Ann for you; I was simply too transfixed by his performance to bother.
And then came Martha.  She casually strolled out on stage to everyone's surprise and greeted us as though we were her old pals.  She's funny.  She joked about how expensive City Winery is by congratulating the audience for "making it to TriBeCa," though it is actually in the heart of SoHo.  She is also an impressive guitarist, tuning the thing by ear between songs while talking to the audience and being cute & charming. I was just waiting for her to start hopping on one foot to show us what a real multi-tasking performer she is.

But that voice! Ah, it was at once gruff and angelic. She sounds like Kate Bush and Jewel wrestling Marianne Faithfull to the ground while PJ Harey cheers from the sideline: just incredible.
She sang some of her old songs and some new ones, covered a handful of Kate McGarrigle (her mother) songs, and even sang (in French of course) several Edith Piaf songs (video coming soon).  Above, watch and listen as she sings her own "Four Black Sheep."
Wainwright invited her (other gender-bending) friend Justin Vivian Bond on stage to cover Melanie's "Leftover Wine," a torch song v sang with voice throaty and visceral (that wasn't a typo: "v" is Justin's preferred gender-free pronoun). Turns out, Bond is a fixture of New York's avant-garde scene and currently has an art exhibition called Fall of the House of Whimsy at Participant, Inc., a gallery on Houston between Avenues A & B.
I'll be following the careers of all three of last night's performers. And I recommend you do the same.  Oh, and City Winery is pretty damn cool too.  But Martha was right: it is expensive.

Angelique Kidjo at Joe's Pub

Angelique Kidjo emerged last night from behind the stage at Joe's Pub (one of my favorite performance spaces in NYC) looking every bit like "Africa's Premier Diva," as she was once famously dubbed by Time Magazine.  Her wrists abundantly bangled, her skin radiant, her gele tied and knotted to perfection, a matching sash draped across a simple linen dress split to the knee to accommodate a forthcoming fury of dance.  

She took us on a journey through customs, birthrights and coming-of-age in her tiny village in the West African nation of Benin.  From childhood baptism to ancestral idolatry (with a particularly moving ode to the goddess of love and the sea, "Lemanja"), the show was a working version of a musical play currently being written about Angelique's life.  As with many one-woman shows, she sang, then told stories, and then sang again.  But her perspective and spirit shone in a way that made that tried-and-true format feel new again.

The highlight of the evening was a joyful rendition of "Mama Afrika" that the whole audience joined in on as Angelique fluttered about the house holding the mike to nearly every mouth in the room.  

At the end, she dragged a bunch of audience members on stage and had them all dancing like the "She's Your Queen-to-Be" scene from Coming to America. (Did that reference just blow all my credibility?) Anyway, catch a video of that dancing here, and pay close attention to the man dancing at 4:02.  He's not me, but people say we look alike :)

Angelique's next NYC-area performance is December 18 in Newark at the NJ Performing Arts Center with Lizz Wright and Martha Reeves in a show called Soul Sisters Sing the Truth! How fun does that sound?