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Davenport's Show Tune Sundays appeal to the thespian in everyone…if you can find it.

Monday Aug 07, 2006.     By Ben Rubenstein

Music Feed

I'd like to say I walked into Davenport's Piano Bar and Cabaret for "Show Tune Sunday" with an open mind. But really, how could I? My strained relationship with musicals has lasted for as long as I can remember, despite my father's best efforts to lure me to his side (thanks a lot, XM Radio, for your all-Broadway, all-the-time channel). I've seen dozens of performances over the years, and besides Fiddler on the Roof (which all Jews are required to love), the only one that ever really tugged at my heartstrings was a stirring rendition of "Tomorrow" by a girl in my eighth-grade class.

The gang at Davenport's might've hanged me from the rafters had they known the full extent of my opinions, but since I came with one of their own, I felt pretty safe. My friend Elise was a musical theater major in college, and once declared that musicals perfectly capture the human condition, or something like that.

She blended in perfectly with the 10 or so other people that inhabited the long, colorful room, its walls plastered with modern interpretations of the cabaret theme. They sipped theater-inspired cocktails with names like "I Do! I Do!" and sang along to the tunes that George Howe, the piano player, so joyously belted out. Had I just been with Elise, I might've escaped the evening unscathed. But we had her mother in tow, and she was not quite as concerned as I with assimilation. At least, not after a Blue Velvet martini and a few glasses of wine.

I'd realized very early on that if I were to have any chance of surviving, I'd need quite a few gin gimlets under my belt. (I was told I had to order that instead of my customary gin-and-tonic, because of the classic '20s undertones.) Though I'd drank enough that off-duty worker Harmony's rendition of "Adelaide's Lament" from Guys and Dolls began to sound good to me, mama Maria* had me beat. Despite our attempts to hold her back, she was soon on the dance floor, commanding the attention of everyone in the place, no one more so than George.

Howe is a lover of all things Broadway (though you'd be wise not to request "New York, New York"), and he enjoys his work so much that he went nearly three hours past the listed ending time of 10 p.m. Since the moment we arrived, he encouraged us to sing along if we knew the words. Elise was only too happy to comply, and even got up to sing one by herself (note for aspiring singers: Open mic nights are on Mondays). The two staff members were also willing conspirators; clearly, the kind of people who work here have to be extremely interested in musical theater, and they've got the voices to match.

Show Tune Sundays is a new venture, and as word starts to get around Chicago's massive theater community, it's sure to grow (though perhaps not to the heights of Martuni's, the San Francisco establishment that Maria insisted was its business model). As it was, several people passing by on the street stopped in for a drink and a listen.

If you're looking to brush up on your Broadway knowledge, this is the place to do it; no one's going to be too harsh on you if you don't know the words. I'm not saying I'm going to be a regular, but as the night came to a close following a spirited game of Broadway Bingo and George asked if I'd be returning, I didn't immediately start to laugh. Hey, Dad would be proud.

*Name has been changed to protect the intoxicated.

Ben Rubenstein jumps under the covers every other week in an ongoing search for freebie music that rocks. If you know of a no-cover night he should check out, email him.