Great American Songbook

While Pink Martini's music is not explicitly political, the band certainly has politics in its DNA. "We're so lucky," Lauderdale
The last thing the world needs is another rock star singing standards. Rod Stewart earned himself another few hundred years in purgatory with his multi-volume take on the Great American Songbook.
The celebrity boîte in the Hotel Carlyle enshrining today's only public mural art of Ludwig Bemelmans is a fitting incubator for the blossoming musical talents of multi-instrumentalist/singer Kate Davis.
Bassist/singer Kate Davis would be a multimillionaire if she had a dollar for every click on her collaboration with the online video project Postmodern Jukebox turning Meghan Trainor's megahit into a genre-bending stride-and-swing.
He's been called the Ambassador of the Great American Songbook, but Michael Feinstein--an internationally acclaimed performing and recording artist, archivist and historian--now has a new title: Television Pioneer.
"Hot House" jazz magazine has started a tradition of honoring a group of new and established musicians, recently offering a varied and compelling awards show last week at the Metropolitan Room.
My father, the songwriter Carl Sigman, was a rational man and his anti-rock screeds had their own internal logic: "It's noise," therefore "it's not music." Ipso facto, "they should call it something else." QED.
Cabaret is alive and not quite yet reduced to gasping for breath in New York City.
Without his presence in our lives we would be musically unaware of what is potentially becoming a lost art form. Fortunately
Hands down, it was the most dazzling performance by a female vocalist during the Symphony's 2013 Season.
As a fan of non-amplified solo recitals, the sound environment of this recording is like sitting in down-center Orchestra in a world class concert hall and having eye-to-eye contact with an artist whose big guns vocals penetrate clear to the soul.
Why go on about the spectacular After Midnight, other than to say that for pure entertainment it comes as near being worth every penny charged as anything does in this gold-plated ticket era of ours?
To hear Tony Bennett sing in person is to be transported; to be connected with a golden era of music that dances ever further from reach with each passing year. They don't write songs like that anymore, and they don't make folks like Tony Bennett to sing them, either.
When I decided to take in the late set of Marilyn Maye's recent New York City appearance, I assumed that I could slip in and out quickly and call it a night. Boy, was I surprised upon arrival to see the swelling crowd on Broadway, milling around the door of the Iridium Jazz Club.
How did Debby Boone travel such a road to top billing in one of Manhattan's classiest cabaret rooms -- and with material that, at first glance, would seem to be at odds with the bulk of her musical career?
At age 97, more than eight decades into his remarkable career, Irving Fields is the last of the original generation of cocktail pianists who tickled the ivories in Manhattan's swankiest nightspots in the 1930s and '40s.
We owe Lincoln Center's annual festival focusing on the works of Mozart in part to Sinatra. It all goes back over 40 years to a time when Philharmonic Hall (as it was then called) was new and prestigious.
Due to there being no Broadway cast album and no movie release of the completed film, Where's Charley? has largely become obscure in the annals of musicals.
Though I grew up in an agnostic household, I was rarely in doubt that a spiritual force was afoot. Music, specifically what's come to be called "The Great American Songbook," was our religion.
On October 26th, Rod Stewart will drive another stake into the hearts of long-suffering true believers.