Nellie
McKay is one of those artists you'll be glad you saw on the way up
(like catching Bruce Springsteen in a small club, which I happened to do
in 1973). This is because McKay's star is burning brightly these days
and she is going to be big.
McKay (pronounced mick-kai)
detonated her vocal dynamite on Sunday evening at the Deer Head Inn, a
Delaware Water Gap, Pa. institution that happens to be the oldest
continuously running jazz club in the U.S. It was the eve of her
week-long residency at the 54 Below supper club in Manhattan's Theater
District, just off Broadway and a few blocks from Carnegie Hall, two
venues where she no doubt will be a headliner some day.
Beyond
being a terrific singer (and a damned good pianist and ukelele player),
a big part of what makes McKay so special is the consciousness raising
message she brings to the stage while stopping thisshort of being
drop-dead funny. There is not another contemporary artist, let alone one
so at home with jazz, rock, pop and torchlight standards, who so
lethally combines the serious and the hilarious. Neither has undercut
the other whenever we have seen her high-wire act over the years, and
the balance between the two poles was pitch perfect at the Deer Head
even when, in one between-songs monologue, she took off on rapacious
developers who
have despoiled her native Poconos, turning the once lovely region into
one big waterpark and strip mall.
McKay is touring in support of My Weekly Reader,
a new album of covers of iconic 1960s songs her mother played when she
was a little kid growing up near the Water Gap. These include hits by The
Beatles, Crosby Stills & Nash, Gerry and the Pacemakers, The Small
Faces and Herman's Hermits (whom I saw in another small club in 1967;
some guys calling themselves The Who opened for them). There also are
lesser known songs by Frank Zappa, Richard and Mimi Farina, Country Joe
McDonald and Moby Grape.
McKay's lilting soprano is hard to pin down, but there is a bit of Billy
Holiday and a lot of Doris Day in it. In fact, in 2009 she recorded Normal As Blueberry Pie,
a tribute album to Day -- like herself a rabid animal rights activist.
(Ever the contrarian, she wanted to name her 2003 debut album Penis Envy, but her record company objected and it was released as Get Away From Me.)
"The beauty of the Sixties is freedom," McKay says. "Not in the way that
the word has been co-opted. The main parts of these movements seem to
have been ignored in favor of more trivial aspects. What goes
unmentioned about the hippie movement is that it was largely a
vegetarian movement. The civil rights movement was largely anti-war. The
feminist movement was anti-pornography — that is more relevant today
than ever before. This was the generation that ended a war and it was
the stonedest generation.
"I cannot believe I still have to protest this shit," she adds.
In
a two-set, 27 cover-song ramble, McKay was ably backed by Cary Park on
guitar, Alexi David on bass guitar and Kenneth Salters on drums.
Highlights included an appropriately bittersweet "Mrs. Brown You've Got a Lovely Daughter" (Herman's Hermits),
a spooky "People Are Strange" (The Doors), a bouncy "Compared To What?"
(Les McCann and Eddie Harris, among many others), a trenchant "Not So
Sweet Martha Lorraine" (Country Joe McDonald), and a driving "Murder In
My Heart For the Judge" (Moby Grape). The second encore provided a
pitch-perfect ending, a note-warping "Wooden Ships," the great Crosby,
Stills & Nash post-apocalyptic anthem.
But
McKay's beautiful rendition of the Beatles' "If I Fell" was the show stopper. She
sang Lennon's lead part, while she added her dubbed voice twice over to
create the McCartney and Harrison backup harmonies on My Weekly Reader,
which was produced by Geoff Emerick. Yeah, the same guy who was behind
the controls at Abbey Road Studios in 1964 for the original recording
of that love song for A Hard Day's Night.
As another reviewer put it, Nellie McKay still wears the mystique of a willful prodigy who is smarter,
more talented and hipper than everyone else. Yes, she seems to answer
only to herself, but that is a big part of her charm. But see her now
while she's still doing smaller places; it won't be the same singing
along with a few thousand of her best friends. You have been warned.
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