Just saw Ute's cabaret act at Cafe Carlyle tonight. Singing Yiddish and French and German and Broadway songs, with a decided emphasis on Kurt Weill. The Bowie-esque quality of her readings of her own songs I expected. The debt to Lotte Lenya for the german songs totally expected (she is, after all the greatest Weill interpreter of her generation, Lenya's heir in a very real way). Unexpected: a goofy Jane Horrocks-like quality in her more comic moments. This woman would make so much more sense at Magique than Carlyle. Granted I love to see the bourgoisie so epatered, but she needs to bring her deliciously calculated chaos (incoheres anyone?) downtown.
And Why Not,