Cabaret of Broken Dreams:One Big Sex-and-Death Carnival The Vortex,
October 3
Lights low, a gaggle of black-clad, slicked-back musicians and singers emerged languidly from behind the Vortex curtain at eight o’clock Sunday night, and for an hour or two the place was circa 50 years ago. In a truly divine style hovering somewhere between Marlene Dietrich and Liza Minelli, star and vocalist Stephanie Stephens performed a dozen or so sad and creepy songs. Stephens was assisted in spades by her shiny-suited collaborator and musical director Adam Sultan (of local band Hollowbody) and by acclaimed opera singer Kris Olson. Backing them (and appearing to have a grand old time doing so) was a dazzling array of local stars from various corners of the Austin rock and jazz scene, including members of Tosca, Spoon, and Golden Arm Trio. Red Eyed Fly sound board wizardess Chris Payeur and well-sequined performance artist Tiana Hux helped out, too.
While the musicians were having fun being extraordinary, the singers were having a wonderful time being bad — bad as in irredeemably naughty. Much to the delight of the audience, Stephens and Sultan went for all-out camp on Kurt Weill’s “Surubaya Johnny” (slapping and eye-rolling involved). Much to the delight of the boys in the first row, Stephens strutted around in hot pants for another Weill number, “What Keeps Man Alive.” Shostakovich, Ravel, and Hollander songs flowed smoothly into one another; the energy stayed high and the tone varied just enough to keep things from bogging down at any point. Mean gave way to wistful, which yielded to lascivious. Distress mingled with scorn, which brushed shoulders with leering; it was all one big sex-and-death carnival, epitomized by Sultan’s original song “Le Petit Mort.”
It’s almost a shame that everyone participating in this show has a burgeoning career of their own. This talented and varied ensemble combined with the gloomy, faux-European aesthetic could take the world by storm, transforming every port of call into a smoky basement hotbox. After the standing ovation, the audience left smiling — who knew a bleak, despair-drenched cabaret could be so much fun?
This article appears in October 8 • 1999.