Dancing in the Dark – Barb Jungr – Treat Yourself
Tuesday, December 24th, 2013
by Alix
Cohen on Playing
Around
by
Alix Cohen
“…dancing in the dark of the
winter solstice…which can be actually The Winter or a dark Winter of the Soul…”
Barb Jungr, one of the most unique
and eloquent interpreters of what she calls “New American Songbook” (after
Elvis and Hank Williams) is briefly back in town at ever savvy 59E59 Theaters.
Peppered by cheeky, humorous commentary and anecdotes about her past, the
artist winds up a period of looking back with a program featuring rock, jazz,
folk, blues, and gospel, yet never distinctly one or the other. Influences are
so organic and symbiotic, Jungr has, in truth, created her own genre.
Songs
by Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Todd Rundgren and Hank Williams among others are
stripped naked, illuminated in a way that gets to every juicy essence. Material
is at the same time recognizable and more deeply resonant than renditions to
which we’ve acclimated. Tempo is often slower; expression so considered it’s as
if thoughts are being shared for the first time.
Part of this is due to visceral
commitment. That music inhabits Jungr is as clear in the way she moves as vocals.
Sometimes it’s the employment of perhaps the most expressive left hand (not
holding the microphone) in the business; others it’s a dip, shift of hip,
stroll or pugnacious swagger like cool, soulful eurhythmy. Physiognomy is also
in play: Jungr appears to smile when she isn’t doing so. Watch her eyes, listen
to inflection, timbre. The fascinating dichotomy keeps one receptively off
balance.
Her strength and intelligence also
contribute to Jungr’s musical choices. There’s not a single lyric, even aching
with despair, in which she appears a helpless victim. Listen. It’s not the
words that dictate here but the translation.
Then there’s that extraordinarily
unusual voice. Jungr’s raspy, almost roadhouse ripple (not vibrato) creates
physical frisson. She can sound feather light without becoming wispy,
seamlessly slide from pithy alto to strains of folk-like mezzo, or punch
through such as “Breaking Down the Walls of Heartache” (a great song by Sandy
Linzer/Denny Randell) with hard, harrowing clarity.
In
Jungr’s hands, “This Gun’s For Hire” becomes the miserable resignation of “a night
worker” instead of just an insinuating, rocking rhythm and Lennon/McCartney’s
“The Night Before” (treat me
like you did the night before) loosing it’s bounce, a plea.
Sticking up for the now often disparaged “crooner” style of performance, she
offers “Can’t Get Used to Losin’ You” popularized by Andy Williams. Rapidly fed
lyrics, we all join in. Songs by Carole King and Kris Kristofferson offer
similar sway.
Leonard Cohen’s rarely heard “First
We Take Manhattan” then we
take Berlin is ably served as long note poetry; sexy, dark, knowing.
It has the icon’s conversational style, thoughts seemingly loosely bound. One
elbow on the piano, Jungr speaks the last verse – a breathy, lingering
departure. Except by its author, I’ve never heard Joni Mitchell’s “River”
performed better. With changes in phrasing, octaves, and back-up by Tracy
Stark, the song has gospel sinew. “Tangled Up in Blue” is a whomp bumpa domp
domp number carried on emphatic chords, adrenaline without speed, and sheer
sass. An encore of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” is pure and lovely.
Jungr communicates with her
audience, sometimes almost collaring those within reach. She is startlingly
open.
Tracy Stark adds her own flourish to
terrific, iconoclastic arrangements by Jungr herself who added an occasional
red hot harmonic to the mix..
Bottom two photos by Carol Rosegg