Review Copyright (c) 1995 by TheatreNet Enterprises
Unlike a number of the cast albums I've reviewed recently "Smokey Joe's Cafe" doesn't always document the "feel" of the stage production, even though, to the ear, the performances would seem to be identical. But I hasten to add, that's not bad news. As most of you know, "Smokey Joe's Cafe" celebrates the distinguished -- even ubiquitous -- career of pop tunesmiths Jerry Lieber and Mike Stoller, whose catalog includes "Hound Dog", "Yakkity Yak", "Fools Fall in Love", "On Broadway" and many vinyl platters' worth of others. And in doing so, it became the surprise feelgood show of last season. (Though in a way, it should not be a surprise. What else is the Lieber-Stoller cannon about?)
What the album does ... and I don't know how it gets there, I can only comment on the result ... is reinvent the experience somewhat, so that it feels just as much like a pop album in its own right as a Broadway album. The performance styles hit the perfect "crossover" balance, and the two-CD set is a delight from start to finish. (It is also, unintentionally, alas, a document of how far the quality of pop writing has fallen in the last decades. It's hyperbolic and unfair to say that Lieber and Stoller were the last bastions of literacy and wit on the charts ... but there are moments when it sure seems that way.)
Possibly the fact that these songs were conceived for records rather than the stage works its own magic; though no doubt some subtler considerations behind the scenes contribute to the album's richness. And the singers, God knows, are right on the money. Hefty chanteuseB. J. Crosby and compact character man Victor Trent Cook deliver showstopping performances, as onstage ... and the others rise very nearly to the same level, even more so on the album. A personal favorite: Pattie Darcy Jones, whose voice, after a lifetime of rock bands and backup vocals, is (in the words of a friend of mine) "beautifully damaged." Every now and again you hear sandpaper ripping across her vocal chords. And it is just heaven.
Quibbles? One offhand. As always, the pop orchestrations of Steve Margoshes are style-accurate, without being inspired, and he overuses the triangle for punctuation so often that, at times, it loses its luster as a subliminal flourish and becomes vaguely distracting. But even this is overwhelmed by the sheer exuberance of the rest.
As I head toward the home stretch on this review, it occurs to me, too, that the album is more than merely nostalgic. Something about it is timeless as well. I suspect that, like "Ain't Misbehavin'" and "Sophisticated Ladies", it will remain in print for a long time, chronicling, as it does, a unique era, a unique style and a unique imprimatur ... in a unique way.
So go. Enjoy. Feel good ...
Jameson Baker is a free-lance theatre journalist. He has written CD liner notes and articles for several magazines and newspapers, among them Vanity Fair.