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Volume Number 1 Issue Number 10 / Devember 1 - 7, 2006
CABARET Kiki and Herb
The notorious, legendary cabaret duo Kiki and Herb Broadway didn’t clean up Kiki and Herb’s act By Todd Simmons “Ladies and Gentlemen… I hate puppets!” was just one of the many curious declarations blurted out by notorious lush and cabaret legend Kiki Durane at Joe’s Pub on Monday night. “I can smoke because it’s art; if you people smoke it’s suicide” (as the chanteuse flaunted Mayor Bloomberg’s no smoking policy), was another. You can never be sure what kind of fragile state Kiki and Herb will totter onto the stage in, but you can be certain to witness a blazing level of entertainment and social commentary that is impossible to claw out of your memory. The invented, apocryphal backstory behind these legends goes like this: Kiki and Herb were first introduced in the Eerie Children’s Institute in Western Pennsylvania in 1934 and began performing together professionally in their teens. The following decades were laden with mixed success and personal tragedy. Most notably, the accidental drowning of Kiki’s daughter Coco in 1967 aboard a Mediterranean yacht while Kiki obliviously frolicked below deck with an un-named playboy. It has been suggested that she has never truly recovered from this unspeakable event and unfortunately there would be more adversity to come. Years later there was an ill-advised disco album, entitled “Kiki and Herb: One Last Chance to Blow,” that was met with stunned bewilderment by even their most loyal supporters. All they could ever really rely on was each other and they forged ahead against all odds. Despite the endless travails and missteps, they have managed to rise to the top of their game with a command performance at Carnegie Hall, a string of shows in London and a much-ballyhooed conquering of Broadway this summer. The launching pad for this success was the years of toiling in various downtown venues like P.S. 122, the now defunct Fez, and The Bowery Ballroom. Their recent four night-stand at Joe’s Pub was a homecoming for the cabaret superstars and they seemed eager to share the tales of their triumphs and frustrations with their East Village kin (“We did five weeks on Broadway and look where it got us”). Following Herb’s tastefully understated introduction, Kiki hobbled onto the small stage in a dazzling black cocktail dress, determined to overcome whatever mysterious injury she had obviously sustained with an anguished smile and a teetering bravado. The first couple of numbers were marred by memory loss and gin-influenced muttering (aside from a compelling version of “Waiting For Pete Doherty To Die’) but Kiki’s enthusiasm was irresistible. She stumbled her way through an indecipherable medley that, backed by Herb’s authoritative piano playing, took on a delirious quality that was as enchanting as it was vexing. At one point, half of Kiki’s beverage ended up in the bowels of Herb’s piano and yet, always the consummate professional, he remained unfazed. By this juncture several new cocktails were delivered by the waitress and Kiki seemed to locate a new level of confidence and, dare I say, swagger. “I only wish I had a Lazy Susan for all these drinks” she intoned before addressing the recent Michael Richards controversy with an “N-word” riddled rap tune/chanson that this writer was unable to identify. Its message however, was difficult to miss. “At least I’m a Broadway has been and not a television has been” she remarked. Ms. Durane sought to begin the “healing” by appealing to everybody’s sense of decency and grace. “Next time any of you are tempted to use the ‘N-word’ just replace it with a description of Herb instead.” The point of “Let’s Talk Dirty To The Animals,” replete with squawking and stomping, and a “cancer medley”, was a little harder to decipher and yet nonetheless riveting theatre. Kiki’s recollections of she and Herb’s time in the Helen Hayes Theatre on Broadway was emotional, as well. “We did five weeks up there and I never left the theatre once” she confessed. She confided that she found her remarkable energy from the visits of a “special friend” that gave her the vigor it took to get through seven shows a week. From there they launched into a jaw-clenched, frenzied version of “Frosty The Snowman” that segued into a song with the chorus of “I’m not goin’ to rehab!” I believe it may have been a private salute to her “old friend Bambi” or to Liza, perhaps. Her radical mood-swings from anguished melancholy to ecstatic glee were breathtaking. In reality, of course “Kiki and Herb” are the brilliant creations of the actor/musicians Justin Bond and Kenny Mellman and they’ve been honing their wickedly funny, musical drag act since the early 90’s in San Francisco. Mellman’s beleaguered sidekick is a ruse for his exceptionally adept piano work and straight man. Bond in particular is an outstanding actor. He has created a character in Kiki that is both heartbreaking and inspiring. She is boozy, bawdy, inappropriate and hilarious. He’s a highly skilled improviser (Kiki calls it “spontaning”) and singer, as well. His ability to make reinterpretations of contemporary songs fit in seamlessly with the cabaret aesthetic (“Little Drummer Boy” into “After The Goldrush”) is amusing and can give even the most banal pop lyrics unexpected weight. It was good to see that the Broadway experience did nothing to dull the sharp edges of their pointedly satirical act. “Kiki and Herb” continue to be some of the most full-throttle entertainers you will find in New York City, or anywhere else for that matter. Kiki and Herb head to London this month, but stay tuned to their Myspace page for upcoming performances: http://myspace.com/kikiherb.
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