Review: Kim David Smith's MORPHIUM KABARETT Will Keep You Hanging On at Pangea

With the wide-eyed innocence of a cold-blooded killer and a smile so broad The Cheshire Cat would be envious, Kim David Smith will have you in his clutches before you even realize.

The Aussie artist's latest, MORPHIUM KABARETT at Pangea, which played its final performance on October 24, opened fittingly with a moody instrumental performance of "Morphium (Overture)" (Mischa Spoliansky), with Skip Ward on bass and Tracy Stark on piano.

Smith's glittery aesthetic (picture a German schoolboy plucked out of a Grimm's-fairytale-themed snow globe) tipped his hat to the evening's Eurocentric proceedings before he'd even said a word. Introducing Ward and Stark to a healthy smattering of applause, he playfully sniffed, "Sometimes everybody claps when I say that."

For his first trick, he gave a beautifully sinister rendition of "Pirate Jenny" (Kurt Weill, Bertolt Brecht) from THE THREEPENNY OPERA. Afterward, he teased, "That concludes the up-tempo selections for the evening." Of course, that couldn't have been further from the truth, as he continued on with a variety of energized French and German cabaret songs, with a dash of contemporary pop thrown in for good measure.

One was a rejiggered version of "You Keep Me Hangin' On" (Holland-Dozier-Holland), with Smith slowing down the tempo before bringing it back up again. He also tackled a mash-up of the German cabaret number "Johnny, Wenn Du Geburtstag Hast" (or, "Johnny, When It's Your Birthday") and Madonna's "Erotica", which was heavy on the German and light on Madge.

Slowly chanting, "Erotic, erotic, put your hands all over my body," Smith's sinister warbling evoked an eerie music box. As the track trailed off, Smith cracked, "All of my arrangements sort of peter out like that, which requires a lot of guesswork on your part." It wasn't so jarring in other instances, but it was hard not to feel a bit cheated out of more of his riff on the once and future Queen of Pop.

But physically, Smith's performance was a technical marvel. Standing nearly motionless for much of the performance with his hands frozen in front of him, he didn't waste a second, a movement, a syllable. That precision was equally matched in his vocals, as well. During "Song of Black Max" (William Bolcom/Arnold Weinstein), his enunciation of the protagonist's name sliced through the air.

Even his descriptions of the songs didn't waste a syllable. Introducing "Padam Padam" (Norbert Glanzberg/Henri Contet, made famous by Edith Piaf), he described it as the "onomatopoeic sound of love driving you mad."

As devilishly fun as the first few performances were, there was some concern that with such a specific tone, the songs would begin to blend into a smoothie of PG-13 villainy that, while tasty, end up leaving you hungry still.

However, Smith's entire performance was a testament to the notion that artifice doesn't have to be a bad thing. As he continued, his impeccably constructed character tore down one wall between himself and the crowd. It was still a construct, but his newly-unveiled vulnerability reinvigorated the show as it progressed.

Getting rueful, Smith opined about being unable to fall in love in the city, saying, "You can't see the people for all the noise they make." He then made a "sneak attack," performing the lovely original track "Shooting Star" (Erik Lidbom/Johan Emmoth/Charlie Mason) without a proper introduction.

Of the song, which marked Smith's most earnest performance of the night, he joked that while it was his own, he didn't write it, exclaiming gleefully, "I Kylie Minogue'd it!" along with the other songs on his album.

Fittingly, he paid tribute to the Aussie icon. During his delightful mash-up of the "Ich Bin Ein Vamp" (Mischa Spoliansky) and "Dracula's Tango (Sucker For Your Love)" from the little-remembered '80s group Toto Coelo, he smoothly transitioned from singing one of the "Dracula la la"s of the latter track into the familiar "la la la" hook of Minogue's "Can't Get You Out of My Head."

Early on in the night, Smith joked that he had decided not to invite any special guests for this particular appearance by saying, "Who better to special guest in my own show than me?" But he did leave the stage for one number, allowing Stark to take the reins with a performance of an original track, "Woman On the Stage (Pure Emotion)."

Tonally, that "pure emotion," which revealed itself through jazzy, near-org*smic warbling, couldn't have been further from Smith's steely precision. Returning to the stage, Smith may have been kidding when he quipped, "You're such a good palate cleanser for me, Tracy," but he wasn't wrong.

The show petered out a bit the way he said his arrangements do, first with the "creepy little lullaby" of "And The Times Are Dark and Fearful) (Eisler/Brecht) and then with the foreboding---if, altogether, brief---chanting of "The Singer" by Walter Marks.

While a tad rushed, the end of the show was still quite amusing. Smith floated through the crowd, gently caressing audience members, plucking a few almonds from one patron's plate and washing them down with a glass of water belonging to another.

No one seemed to mind, of course, as the crowd appeared transfixed by his sprightly charms and kewpie doll good looks. It may be impossible to know if he's the singer or the song, but, clearly, that's just how Smith likes it.

To post a comment, you must register and login.