Steve Tyrell At The Cafe Carlyle

As Steve Tyrell opens his ninth holiday season engagement at the venerated Caf� Carlyle on New York City's upper east side, he brings with him a 50-year history in the music business. These include a 20-year run as a highly successful singer of standards that began rather serendipitously when Tyrell himself sang "The Way You Look Tonight" for the film "Father of the Bride." Steve Martin, the star of that film, convinced Tyrell to record an entire album, which eventually led to 1999's "The New Standard." Tyrell's singing career was born in his fifties.

Since then, Tyrell-a producer and A&R person who started in the business at age 18 with a job at Scepter Records-has become a best-selling artist on the Billboard Jazz charts, tours extensively, and has taken over the holiday residency once occupied by the great Bobby Short for thirty-six years.

Oh, the times have changed so quickly. It's hard to believe that the sophisticated audiences that came to see and hear Short for all those years are now flocking to see and hear Tyrell, who, after all his years with a behind-the-scenes education in music and all these years in the limelight on stages around the world, is still a rank amateur.

Yes, he has good pitch and a pleasing just-woke-up rasp in his baritone voice, but those are mere mechanics and do not a singer make. Without a trace of irony, Tyrell calls his new show "Wordsmiths," a celebration of great lyricists. Yet, he invests so little feeling in what he's singing about and, despite having a song list that anyone with a passing knowledge of Great American songbook favorites would know by heart, Tyrell keeps lyric sheets on a music stand in front of him and frequently glances at them. Example: "The way you wear your hat" . . . [looks at notes] "The way you sip your tea . . . The memory of all that" . . . [looks at notes] "No, they can't take that away from me." Seriously, Steve?

In person (not so much in photos), Texan-born Tyrell bears an uncanny resemblance to President George W. Bush. His good-ole-boys, soft-spoken drawl and goofy, aw-shucks grin is spot-on Dubya. Politics aside, I suppose Dubya has his charms, but I suspect Dubya would bring about as much interpretation to the standards as Tyrell does. (Tyrell does have the silver hair of Bush's predecessor, Bill "Bubba" Clinton; perhaps Tyrell's appeal is in the combination.)

One has to wonder who is directing Tyrell's live act. He commits every beginner sin in the book. He punctuates the rhythm with finger snaps or, worse, conducts with his hands. He begins songs with his eyes closed, as if concentrating to remember the words. He delivers come-hither lines to individual middle-aged women in the audience, even if the gesture pulls focus from the song. Every attempt at scatting is merely singing along with the tonic notes in the melody. He ends every song with a smile and a drumbeat with his hand.

Most unforgivably, he can't stop with that shit-eating grin, even in the middle of an angst-ridden song like "Why Was I Born?" (Kern and Hammerstein): "Why do I try to draw you near me" [grins at a woman] . . . "Why do I cry? You never hear me" [grins at another woman]. WTF?

Most of the patter about lyricists of yesteryear is Wikipedia-type drivel (referring to his notes, naturally). The sun peeks through the clouds somewhat when Tyrell tells stories of people he himself has met. There is a nice homage to Hal David, the lyricist who is often not mentioned (as Tyrell points out) when people refer to "Bacharach songs." That leads into a creditable version of "I Say a Little Prayer," complete with a slightly adjusted and approved lyric that David gave Tyrell for his Bacharach (and David!) album.

Likewise, hearing the stories of the Brill Building years and Tyrell's association with Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil was a satisfying diversion.

Tyrell is backed up by a septet of fine musicians, led my musical director Quinn Johnson on piano. However, the arrangements (credited to guitarist Bob Mann) are all wrong: everything swings-God forbid Tyrell should slow down and have a moment that touches his soul-including the aforementioned "Why Was I Born?"

To those well-heeled tourists and unknowing New Yorkers who are unsure
where to go for cabaret entertainment, I urge them to check out the smaller rooms. On any random Tuesday, you can walk into the Duplex or Don't Tell Mama or The Laurie Beechman Theatre and likely find someone who will bring more edge, musicality, or meaning to the Songbook-someone who has probably been toiling for years and would welcome a shot at a Carlyle gig.

Steve Tyrell is the Forrest Gump of the music industry: a happy-go-lucky nice guy who stumbled through fifty years of pop music history, meeting and working with the greatest, and somehow landed on his feet through it all. (Thanks, Gunther Smith, for the apt Gump reference.)

I can only pity poor Bobby Short, year after year rolling over in his grave, asking, "I died for this?"

I blame you, Steve Martin.

Steve Tyrell is at the Caf� Carlyle through Dec. 31. Check the website, http://www.rosewoodhotels.com/en/the-carlyle-new-york/location/things-to-do/events-at-the-carlyle, for exact times, pricing, and details about reservations.