Chanteuse Barbara Cook Soars with the New York Philharmonic

It's often said that as time goes by, our loving erotic response is dulled, and gets activated only by memories. Perhaps because the memory of her voice has been etched in our hearts and minds for such a long time, Barbara Cook floods us with a wake up call to the juicy life, evoking memories, making them ever so present.  On Saturday evening May 30, she performed at Avery Fisher Hall in New York.  Her voice was fresh and warm – as good as it gets for a singer of any age. 

Has Dr. Cook (she has been given many honorary degrees) kept her voice intact by treating it just as she treats her songs – with a special tenderness spiced with a naughty streak? She is certainly one of the nicest people you'll ever hear on stage, but she's not saccharine and the Southern Belle has disappeared, except when she vamps and mesmerizes.

She talked about her Georgia heritage on Saturday, and connected it to Leontyne Price, Jessye Norman, Ray Charles, Otis Redding – ripe fruit, but nothing strange among them.  How far we've come from Muddy Waters' arrival in Europe, where the Beatles and Mick Jagger honored him more than Elvis or any other white American performer ever did.

Her bouquet to Mabel Mercer and Mercer's impact on her interpretations led to a moving rendition of Alec Wilder (music) and Edward Eager (lyrics) "Goodbye Johnny," which she'd simply been unable to perform until this year.  If that was because she could not sing the last words, "Don't go" without tears coming to her eyes, she has now given in to the emotion – in this, her 83^rd year.  She cradled the song in her voice, and the hall was silent when she finished.  No one wanted to interrupt the moment.

Cook sassed "Chicken Tonight, Feathers Tomorrow" a very funny Johnny Marks song – and often alternated vamping with excruciating tenderness. 

I had thought before the evening about Susan Boyle's rapid ascent on "Britain's Got Talent."   Boyle has had over 100 million hits on YouTube to Barbara Cook's 100 thousand or so. Cook reports having watched Susan Boyle's first performance fifteen times and crying.

Despite the YouTube statistics, Boyle would do well to listen to Cook: her humanity and deep sense of our foibles inform Cook's delicious voice -- giving the clear, sweet soprano an edge.  (Boyle of course came in second in the final round, but no one thinks we've heard the last of her!) 

Cook remarked on some songs she'd found on YouTube and quoted first lines:           

While the large, imposing presence of Cook does not suggesting fading away, I thought of remarks once made about Cleopatra: 

After she warmed up in the first few songs, I can't recall her voice in lovelier form.  Cloying is not a word I'd ever use about Cook. And even if a listener finds herself veering to the sentimental, Cook socks with Doo-Wop and scat, and incipient tears turn to raucous laughter. 

Cook has remarked "...with the Philharmonic, you have the power of those instruments and those soaring strings, and when there are a thousand people in the audience applauding, screaming and yelling, it's extremely exciting."  At times, the orchestra - on stage with the performer and not in a pit - took the voice and instrumentation out of balance, not in Cook's favor.  But the active listening of orchestra members when only the piano accompanied Cook provided a further appreciation for Cook's musicality.  

An evening for the records. I found it hard not to think that this was part of a long goodbye, although Cook looks hearty and sings beautifully.  "Here's to You," and "What a Wonderful World," are tinged with farewell, albeit a joyous one.  Here's to you, Barbara Cook. 

May your farewell take forever.