Shades of Blue

Last Thursday dragged the way days do when there's something very exciting happening at the end of them. As it turns out, this was precisely the case. I had tickets to see the spectacularly talented Carole J. Bufford in her new show Shades of Blue. Ed didn't get to come with me the last time I saw Carole perform at 54 Below (read about it here), and so I was doubly eager for 9:30 to roll around, excited to share this with him. My expectations were sky high, and even so Carole managed to exceed them.

Ed and I took our seats at a table in the Metropolitan Room, a small cabaret in Chelsea, about 15 minutes before the show was set to begin. We were treated to a pre-show show when the female half of the couple sitting across the table from us began a stream of chatter that did not let up until the lights went down. Marty was a short woman with clouds of long, fine, curly hair and lots of sparkling jewelry. I heard her life story and learned all about Roxy, her Yorkie-Poo and her various philosophies on investing, theater, global cities, life, and love while her more reserved husband chatted with Ed about the engine. I asked Marty if she knew Carole and she said she did not. She had decided to come to the show because of Carole's review in the Wall Street Journal. "Did you see it?" she wanted to know. I said I had seen the review in the New York Times, but not in the Journal and in the time it took me to say this Marty had dug a newspaper page from the depths of a large handbag. "There!" she said triumphantly. I reached out to take the paper and she held it out of my reach for a moment, pointing to the top corner of the page. "See? 'Wall Street Journal.' That way you know it really is from the Journal," she said, as though I were a skeptic in need of persuasion. I skimmed the review and proclaimed it fantastic. "You'll have to tell your friend about it in case she missed it," Marty advised. I assured her that Carole had probably been made aware of its publication but that I'd mention it just in case.

Then a pianist and an upright bass player took the stage, the lights went down, and Carole swished through a curtain to take the stage. She radiated poise and an easy grace from the word go.

I wanted the show to last all night. Carole was outstanding and the line-up was fantastic. It included obvious blues numbers (covers of Bessie Smith and Dinah Washington), which were wonderful, but my favorites were the more unexpected, creative choices. Carole brought new life to Reba McEntire's "Why Haven't I Heard from You?" and Elvis's "All Shook Up" ("They say rock and roll is just the blues sped up, so we decided to slow it back down."), reinvented Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison," and had me on the edge of my seat throughout every note of John Legend's "Who Did That to You."* Another inventive performance paired Carole's a cappella singing with a tap dancer who did a tremendous job of supplying tight clusters of beats for her voice to soar among. But my favorite might (might - it's really tough to choose) have been her cover of "Summertime" (as in "and the livin' is easy") which was so soulful and impassioned that I barely breathed until she hit the last note and then let out an involuntary whoop when I finally gasped in a lungful of air.

The intimate Metropolitan Room 

Ed and I sat at the foot of the stage (which was low and therefore neck-friendly), and this is precisely the way to watch Carole sing. I recommend getting as close as possible because this girl can emote. She is simply superb at conveying depths of feeling in songs in ways that make it seem as though she's living the lyrics as she's singing them. And since this was a blues line-up, lots of those feelings were heart-wrenching ones. Despite my knowledge that Carole is a cheerful, bubbly person who lives a very happy life, I was nearly overcome several times and had to restrain myself from leaping onto the stage, patting her hand, and offering her a cup of tea and a tissue. But then the lights would go down at the end of the song, and after a beat her mega-watt smile would return as suddenly as if a switch had been flipped. Carole seems to genuinely love every moment she is on stage; if it's an act, it's a very persuasive one. At one point she said, beaming a little apologetically, that the blues were sad but she sure does love singing them.

My new friend Marty was very impressed. After the first number I caught her eye and she grinned at me, and over the wild applause following the second number she called, "She's incredible!" over the table. As the lights came up after the show, she pronounced it the best cabaret she had ever seen.

After giving Marty my card, letting her kiss both my cheeks, and waving her and her husband out the door, Ed and I went to a nearby bar with Carole, her husband, and several of her friends. We chatted and sipped cocktails while Carole devoured a well-earned sandwich. But, alas, Ed and I are not part of the show biz scene and had to excuse ourselves a little before 1:00 to stagger to bed. Friday morning was rough, but it was well worth it.

New York-based readers should do themselves an enormous favor and see this show, which is running weekly for at least another month. Get there the moment the doors open to ensure you secure yourself a good seat and hold onto your hat.


*There is no question mark at the end of the song title. The lyrics are the words of a guy who is assuring his lady love that he will avenge her by killing the person "who did that to you." So: not a typo. Despite my best efforts it certainly happens sometimes, but this is not one of them.