Life in the Windy City: “What Are You Doin’ New Year’s Eve?”
I’m sure I had heard that Frank Loesser song at some point before this past New Year’s Eve, but I had never heard it sung live, and certainly never from such a captivating vocalist as Susan Werner.
That’s what I did, with Lisa, on New Year’s Eve.
Werner was playing at a Davenport’s, a piano bar on Milwaukee between North and Division, and after Lisa had gotten me hooked on her “40’s songbook” album I Can’t Be New, my mechayeh* girlfriend got us tickets to see this superlative singer-songwriter in person.
Davenport’s is a charming little storefront bar with a kind of subdued art deco interior, a grand piano in the front room, and a back room with a tiny stage and room for about sixty people, tops. It was in this back room where we got to see Werner’s second intimate show of the evening (she did one at 8, and one at 10).
Werner is a singer-songwriter who, previous to I Can’t Be New, wrote and sang mostly folk-type songs, although to pigeonhole her as an artist is a grave disservice. It is true that she performs mostly on the folk festival circuit, and at cozy little venues like Davenport’s, although I’m sure part of the appeal of the Davenport’s gig for her was the fact that she’s a native Chicagoan and currently lives here.
I Can’t Be New was the source for most the evening’s music. Werner likes to sing her own songs, not from any sense of ego, but because “I should be able to remember those lyrics better.” That self-deprecating humor is also part of what makes watching her perform so much fun. When she stood to sing “What Are You Doin’ New Year’s Eve,” she said she felt a little uncomfortable because singer-songwriters always like to have something in front of them, even just “a tambourine—-anything.” At this show, she settled for her long, silk scarf, then proceeded to knock us out with that Loesser song.
She is immensely talented: her mezzo-soprano vocals flit somewhere between smoky and husky most of the time, a kind of rich, smooth, aural silk; her nimble fingers pluck tunes out on a piano, keyboard, or guitar with equal flair and grace, and she plays them all in the course of a show; her own lyrics are often witty and clever, but she also has facility with somber and moving. On this festive night, however, she kept those songs to a minimum.
In addition to her 40’s-style jazz and Frank Loesser, she pounded out a jaunty piano duet with her local producer (I forget his name and I wasn’t taking notes) of “If I Only Had a Brain” by Harold Arlen, because “he was born in 1905, and you’ll be hearing a lot of Harold Arlen next year, and we wanted you to hear it from us first.”
She rounded out the show by taking a couple of requests for her older stuff, and obliged by accompanying herself on the guitar with “All of the Above,” a song inspired by a friend who was certain she had finally hit upon the secret to success with placing personal ads: she was going to be very specific. The song proceeds to list everything this woman wants (the “All of the Above” of the title) and what she doesn’t want (“none of the below”). It is a funny paean to the travails of finding that perfect mate.
She also treated the audience to her new (as in “I just finished this four hours ago”) Christmas song (“because you haven’t really made it as a singer-songwriter until you write a Christmas song”). She didn’t share the exact title, but the chorus went something like “I’ll still love you the day after Christmas.”
Her tribute to the Windy City (and a sly gibe to The Big Apple) “I’ll Take Chicago Any Day” finished up the regular set, and, as you might imagine given the venue, a huge hit with the audience. Even I, a very recent immigrant to Chicago, felt more than a little civic pride while listening to that song.
After the show, Werner mingled with the audience/ revelers, chatting easily and with the same charm she presents on stage. She and Lisa talked briefly about singing (Lisa has been taking voice lessons for something like 20 years) and when I mentioned I had recently moved from Michigan, she held up her hand, palm out, pointed to it, and said, “So where are you from?” as if she were a Michigan native. She certainly picked up some local color on her last gig in Ann Arbor, it seems.
There was a champagne toast at midnight, some smooching (with Lisa, not with Werner), and then the quick cab ride home. It was , quite simply, one of the best New Year’s Eves I have had in years.
Now I gotta see where Susan Werner is playing next . . .
---------------------------------------------------------------
* a Yiddish word meaning “a pleasure, a delight.” I have used it here to mean “delightful” but that’s probably stretching the proper use a bit. Dating a Jewess is good for working Yiddish into one’s vocabulary. It also helps that she got me the parody book Yiddish with Dick and Jane, by Ellis Werner (no relation to Susan, I’m sure) and Barbara Davilman. The book (and its helpful glossary) are so funny you’ll plotz.
That’s what I did, with Lisa, on New Year’s Eve.
Werner was playing at a Davenport’s, a piano bar on Milwaukee between North and Division, and after Lisa had gotten me hooked on her “40’s songbook” album I Can’t Be New, my mechayeh* girlfriend got us tickets to see this superlative singer-songwriter in person.
Davenport’s is a charming little storefront bar with a kind of subdued art deco interior, a grand piano in the front room, and a back room with a tiny stage and room for about sixty people, tops. It was in this back room where we got to see Werner’s second intimate show of the evening (she did one at 8, and one at 10).
Werner is a singer-songwriter who, previous to I Can’t Be New, wrote and sang mostly folk-type songs, although to pigeonhole her as an artist is a grave disservice. It is true that she performs mostly on the folk festival circuit, and at cozy little venues like Davenport’s, although I’m sure part of the appeal of the Davenport’s gig for her was the fact that she’s a native Chicagoan and currently lives here.
I Can’t Be New was the source for most the evening’s music. Werner likes to sing her own songs, not from any sense of ego, but because “I should be able to remember those lyrics better.” That self-deprecating humor is also part of what makes watching her perform so much fun. When she stood to sing “What Are You Doin’ New Year’s Eve,” she said she felt a little uncomfortable because singer-songwriters always like to have something in front of them, even just “a tambourine—-anything.” At this show, she settled for her long, silk scarf, then proceeded to knock us out with that Loesser song.
She is immensely talented: her mezzo-soprano vocals flit somewhere between smoky and husky most of the time, a kind of rich, smooth, aural silk; her nimble fingers pluck tunes out on a piano, keyboard, or guitar with equal flair and grace, and she plays them all in the course of a show; her own lyrics are often witty and clever, but she also has facility with somber and moving. On this festive night, however, she kept those songs to a minimum.
In addition to her 40’s-style jazz and Frank Loesser, she pounded out a jaunty piano duet with her local producer (I forget his name and I wasn’t taking notes) of “If I Only Had a Brain” by Harold Arlen, because “he was born in 1905, and you’ll be hearing a lot of Harold Arlen next year, and we wanted you to hear it from us first.”
She rounded out the show by taking a couple of requests for her older stuff, and obliged by accompanying herself on the guitar with “All of the Above,” a song inspired by a friend who was certain she had finally hit upon the secret to success with placing personal ads: she was going to be very specific. The song proceeds to list everything this woman wants (the “All of the Above” of the title) and what she doesn’t want (“none of the below”). It is a funny paean to the travails of finding that perfect mate.
She also treated the audience to her new (as in “I just finished this four hours ago”) Christmas song (“because you haven’t really made it as a singer-songwriter until you write a Christmas song”). She didn’t share the exact title, but the chorus went something like “I’ll still love you the day after Christmas.”
Her tribute to the Windy City (and a sly gibe to The Big Apple) “I’ll Take Chicago Any Day” finished up the regular set, and, as you might imagine given the venue, a huge hit with the audience. Even I, a very recent immigrant to Chicago, felt more than a little civic pride while listening to that song.
After the show, Werner mingled with the audience/ revelers, chatting easily and with the same charm she presents on stage. She and Lisa talked briefly about singing (Lisa has been taking voice lessons for something like 20 years) and when I mentioned I had recently moved from Michigan, she held up her hand, palm out, pointed to it, and said, “So where are you from?” as if she were a Michigan native. She certainly picked up some local color on her last gig in Ann Arbor, it seems.
There was a champagne toast at midnight, some smooching (with Lisa, not with Werner), and then the quick cab ride home. It was , quite simply, one of the best New Year’s Eves I have had in years.
Now I gotta see where Susan Werner is playing next . . .
---------------------------------------------------------------
* a Yiddish word meaning “a pleasure, a delight.” I have used it here to mean “delightful” but that’s probably stretching the proper use a bit. Dating a Jewess is good for working Yiddish into one’s vocabulary. It also helps that she got me the parody book Yiddish with Dick and Jane, by Ellis Werner (no relation to Susan, I’m sure) and Barbara Davilman. The book (and its helpful glossary) are so funny you’ll plotz.
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