Review: Jason Danieley Opens Up With Open-Hearted WITHOUT A SONG 54 Below

There’s one established school of thought in the world of close-up cabaret that places a priority on performers sharing their thoughts and personal experiences with the audience.  What are their Cabaret Commandments? Here they are: “Thou shalt endeavor to have…..Contact! Connection! Confessions! Communication! Catharsis! And the thing that must be indispensable, invaluable, indelible, and ever-so-intense: INTIMACY.  Make the patter autobiographical, share, open up so the audience really “gets to know you.” And, for Heaven’s sake, don’t let your carefully scripted patter sound scripted. If you’re not a lyricist, yourself, who can write bone-honest summations of chapters of your life story and express your attitudes, find some existing songs that are as close as possible to reflect all that. And pepper your patter with pithy or protracted observations and anecdotes so that your spoken remarks elaborate on and set up the content and moods of the material you sing. And, oh, a big memo to musical theatre actors landing in Cabaret Country who are used to ‘hiding behind a character’: sing as YOURSELF, catch the audience’s eyes, extra points for having a twinkle or tear in your own eyes, as you bravely, brilliantly break that darn fourth wall.”   

So, with all of this in mind, let’s consider what it was like attending the recent show by Jason Danieley, the Broadway veteran with that glorious voice and impressive track record. What road did he take and how did it come across?         

Manhattan’s jewel of a nightclub, 54 Below, presented the star for two consecutive nights (I was there for the first, on August 18), with the estimable Joseph Thalken on piano: two men whose work I’ve long admired, separately and together. A previously shared appearance at this venue in 2017, recorded and released for posterity and poignancy (Broadway & Beyond), was with Marin Mazzie, the Tony Award-nominated actress to whom Mr. Danieley was married for 22 years, until her death a little more than 15 months after that booking. His processing of the loss was, indeed, central to much of the night’s sharing. Yes, sharing.  Going back to the kind of M.O. discussed in the opening paragraph, Jason Danieley certainly made those of us in attendance his attentive confidants, commiserating comrades, and by-default cheerleaders for his determination to get through, get help, and get comfort. 

The show, with no director credited,  was named for its robustly rendered opening number, which was first heard in 1929 in a Broadway show called Great Day, “Without a Song.” Gratifyingly, for fans of good singing,  Jason Danieley is not without a song these days. And he was rarely without a comment or memory or perspective to offer — sage, sweet, sly, sad, sensitive.  All numbers were from musical theatre, except for two. One was “The Long and Winding Road” by Paul McCartney, with a wallop of emotion. The other was brighter and lighter – “Because of You.” (I thought the recent death of Tony Bennett, the legendary singer most associated with it, might have led to a mention of his name, but there was no such nod. But it’s not required.)

The voice, in fine shape, is notable for its truly pretty high range and the contrasting heroic persona that can project, respectively, vulnerability or vigor. Keeping both strong suits suitable for a cabaret-sized room, it’s never overblown or underpowered.  Repertoire included a few impactful numbers from the Stephen Flaherty/ Lynn Ahrens' score for Knoxville, a show he was in last year in Florida for its world premiere. These selections were very well received and played with care by Joseph Thalken. The agenda du jour was not to trot out a lot of items from the actor’s musical theatre résumé and shoehorn them into the theme, forcing him to sing as characters, rather than as himself. But he did manage to very effectively repurpose one item: a very moving/comforting “Walk with Me” from The Full Monty. This and “Happiness” were also part of the aforementioned recorded 2017 set. The latter was introduced by Marin Mazzie and Jere Shea in the original production of Passion, in 1994. (The lyric lines that find the lovers in bed wondering what it would be like to “die, here in your arms” now hit our ears and hearts with unbanishable ache, having also heard, at another point, Mr. Danieley relate that his wife did die “in my arms.”)  “Happiness” was also one of their duets in the aforementioned 2017 act, and now he is going solo with it. This is one of three Sondheim entries powerfully presented. 

Yes, things got pretty heavy – both gloomy and stimulating. He characterized the show as a “musical meditation” about subjects that have been on his mind, dropping the keyword ”mortality” early on.  He told of his “spiritual pilgrimages” exploring Buddhism and Hinduism, looking for enlightenment, traversing the world. Occasionally, he lightened the tone about the enlightenment search, remarking that it wasn’t as Hemingway-like or romantic as it sounds. All that trekking and traversing wide-open spaces in the heat is tiring, not just inspiring, despite the silver lining of enlightenment, the dark clouds of loneliness. Longing and lamenting seemed to still be hovering — overwhelming perhaps. Was it over-sharing? Perhaps. I had mixed feelings about the approach. Your mileage may vary as you’re brought along on the journey of understandable misery and meaning. Remarking on how his comments might be affecting us, he says, “Maybe it’s helpful, maybe it’s healing. If not, have another drink.”   

Danieley spoke quite eloquently about the weight of grief and his quest filled with what he calls “unanswerable questions.” While being succinct about such concerns could be seen as skimming the surface of deep waters, some patter-pruning might be prudent. A little goes a long way. Here and there, Mr. D. seemed lost in thought and memory or momentarily lost his place, but he recovered with grace and humor.  No big deal.  Other topics covered were some career highlights, getting Covid, getting a new dog, getting therapy, and his church-centric growing-up years  (Mom and other people important to him were in the audience and acknowledged warmly). While recovery is an ongoing process, there have been recent bright spots, and the night is life-affirming, as well as achingly sorrowful. Don’t miss the line “Ya gotta have hope/ Mustn’t sit around and mope” in the final number, “Heart” from Damn Yankees.  Come for the ballads and blues, stay for the good news (which I won’t spoil here), and there is some near the end. But I still think 54 Below might have put boxes of tissues on each table, next to the menus! 

Of course, some people find this kind of unburdening a burden— anything bordering on TMI makes them want to issue a cease-and-desist order.  A fellow cabaret reviewer I have shared tables with in the past was not at all a big fan of the personal content and when a singer would launch into such stuff would grimace and mutter “No one cares!” ….but not loud enough for others to hear. Others never fret when they get let in on mostly innermost feelings of singers and their frequent flyer miles through show business, romance, or family dramas. If you enter the room already having affection and admiration for a performer and some curiosity, there’s a better chance you’ll care.  And with the simpatico partnership of Joseph Thalken, Jason Danieley (who has both woes and wisdom to share) is a candidate for caring who takes care in how he sings and speaks his heart.  

Find great shows to see on the 54 Below website HERE.

Visit the Jason Danieley website HERE.
 

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