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.
