Review: Karen Irwin rocks the Gaslight Theatre with her Janis Jopin tribute

This review originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Karen Irwin

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As anyone who has ever seen Barb Jungr or Storm Large in action understands, there is definitely a place for rock at the cabaret table. Karen Irwin demonstrated that again last Saturday (November 5, 2016) with her killer Janis Joplin tribute at The Gaslight Cabaret Festival.

The main thing you need to know about Ms. Irwin's show Janis, Me, and Bobby McGee is that it's neither simple celebrity impersonation along the lines of the Rat Pack shows, nor a straightforward run through Janis Joplin's Greatest Hits.

Yes, Ms. Irwin definitely has the Joplin voice down pat. And her energetic, "full tilt boogie" performance style has the same raw emotional power that made the late singer such a formidable presence on stage. There's also no doubt that her set list included songs that even a casual admirer of Janis Joplin would recognize, like "Me and Bobby McGee," "Piece of My Heart," "Mercedes Benz," and "Down on Me."

But what made this a real cabaret show was the way she related Joplin's music to both her own life and to the history of women in pop music. When Ms. Irwin talked about learning to embrace a voice that was considered "not pretty," she was speaking not only for herself and Joplin, but ultimately for every woman who has defied the roles defined as "proper" for her by men. She told us a story that was her own and Joplin's and that of every woman who has ever sung the blues.

In fact, one of the best things about this show was the way Ms. Irwin demonstrated that Joplin was part of an illustrious line of great female blues shouters going back to the early 20th century. That means Clara Smith (whom Ms. Irwin calls the "queen of the moaners") whose 1924 "Don't Advertise Your Man" was such a hit for Bonnie Raitt and was sung so well by Ms. Irwin in the show. It also means Bessie Smith, represented in Ms. Irwin's show by the 1923 Jimmy Cox classic "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out.” Other performers did it before and since, but Smith's 1929 recording is still the touchstone.

And it means Big Mama Thornton, whose "Hound Dog" is still the definitive version, The King not withstanding. She's represented in the show by a powerful rendition of one of her own compositions, "Ball 'n' Chain,” which was also a favorite of Joplin's.

It's easy to forget that Joplin was primarily a blues mama, so it was good to be reminded.

Ms. Irwin shifted back and forth between being herself and being a virtual incarnation of Janis Joplin with such ease that the change always felt entirely natural. I wasn't at all surprised, then, to see that her web site bio describes her as an "[a]ctor by trade, singer by accident." I have always maintained that actors have a leg up when it comes to cabaret for the simple reason that a well-constructed cabaret show is like a one-act play, and actors are more comfortable with that format. Those who ply their trade on the stage understand the importance of telling a story.

Backing Ms. Irwin in her pure tornado of a performance was an impressive band consisting of Paul Brinnell on piano, Leo Peña on drums, Brian Sharpe on guitar, Ed Sullivan on bass, and backup singer Narciso Lobo. Mr. Sharpe, in particular, tore off some smokin' solos.

Janis, Me, and Bobby McGee was part of the Gaslight Cabaret Festival's fall season, which concludes this coming weekend with jazz pianist and singer Judy Carmichael on Friday, November 11, and Ken Haller's The Medicine Show on Saturday, November 12.

Cabaret Review: Storm Large kicks out the jams at the Gaslight Cabaret Festival Friday, November 6, 2015

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In cabaret's house (to paraphrase John 14:2) are many mansions. As anyone who has had the pleasure of seeing Portland, Oregon, based diva Storm Large and her band can attest, one of those mansions looks a lot like a West Coast rock club.

A one-woman entertainment conglomerate (rock star, author, actor, and songwriter) Ms. Large brought her latest show to the Gaslight Cabaret Festival this weekend, and there's no doubt that she kicked out the jams. Her performance was least as much rock as cabaret (especially in its attitude), but it was solidly theatrical as well.

Mostly, though, it was entertaining, raucously and bawdily funny, and entirely genuine. You can't hide in a cabaret show, even with a four-piece band behind you, so Ms. Large (to her credit) doesn't even try. Slinky sexy, and blessed with a powerful, seamless voice, she immediately grabbed the audience's attention with one of her own songs ("Call Me Crazy") followed by a wildly obsessive cover of "I've Got You Under My Skin" that sounded more like the sort of thing Lou Reed was writing during his "Rock and Roll Animal" period.

Which, as it turned out, pretty much set the tone for the rest of the evening.

If you saw Ms. Large's last Gaslight show "Taken by Storm" back in April of 2014, you probably recognized some of the numbers in this latest outing. She reprised her just-this-side-of-creepy version of Brel's "Ne Me Quitte Pas," for example, as well as her psychotic dominatrix version of the sappy "Hopelessly Devoted to You" in which the song is yanked from the film version of "Grease" and dropped into one of the movie's multiple adaptations of Stephen King's "Carrie." Couldn't happen to a more deserving ditty.

Ms. Large's songwriting talents were also on display once again. Her next to closing song, "Angels in Gas Stations," was a beautiful little slice-of-romantic-life poem ("God is every damn where tonight," runs the refrain), while her "8 Miles Wide" was a cheerfully upbeat and totally outrageous declaration of female empowerment. "My vagina is eight miles wide," goes the refrain to that one. "Absolutely everyone can come inside / If you're ever frightened, just run and hide."

The most remarkable original number in the evening, though, was probably "Charity Lamb," inspired by the story of Portland's first convicted axe murderess. Originally composed in 2008 for a compilation CD honoring Portland's Lone Fir cemetery, the song focuses on Lamb's victimization by her brutal husband and her need to take her own life back, however violently. "I'm damned if I'll suffer / Another long summer / Alone with no lover / And your brutal hands" runs the lyric. It's potent and searing stuff.

All of which means that, once again, Storm Large's show did not fit into any easy niches and was not for the easily offended (devotees of the political right wing, in particular, might not feel very comfortable). But the cabaret tent is a big one (maybe even eight miles wide...), so there's plenty of room for high-energy hijinks by performers like Storm Large and her band.

That said, I have to admit that over ninety minutes, Ms. Large's show was a bit long for the one-act cabaret format. And some of her patter, entertaining as it was, tended to get a bit discursive. A monolog about Ben Carson's gaffes, for example, was funny stuff, but it could have been trimmed easily. Still, only a dedicated Puritan or some other variety of killjoy could have failed to have a good time there.

Accompanying Ms. Large were pianist and music director James Beaton, guitarist Matt Brown, bass guitarist Scott Weddle, and drummer Greg Eklund. They all rocked the house and have all performed with Ms. Large often enough to be very comfortable with both her and with each other.

Storm Large and her band appeared Friday and Saturday, November 6 and 7, at at the Gaslight Theatre on North Boyle in the Central West End. The Gaslight Cabaret Festival continues through November 21st; visit the web site for details.