
FINDING FELICIA (PART 1)
In Search of the Jazz Singer Felicia Carter
Music - Theater - Musical Theater - Books. And Otherwise
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In Search of the Jazz Singer Felicia Carter

I used to rue the late-night live music scenes in New York that I had missed.

When I heard that Encores! was going to revive La Cage au Folles to conclude its 2026 season, I thought (I confess): Why on earth, why? We need something right now way more confrontational than that period piece.

I grew up reading Robert Kimball to learn more about all of the songwriters I most admired — Gershwin, Porter, Berlin, Rodgers and Hart.

BLACK AND BLUE: The Life and Lyrics of Andy Razaf has now been out of print far, far longer than it was in print.

The Tony Awards are a week away and … I got nothin’.

On the cusp of a new millennium, in the summer of 1999, I wrote about something really silly for the New York Times Arts & Leisure section.

I had a small epiphany at Alice Tully Hall recently but it passed.

Encores! pulled off not one but four revivals this month with its singular production of a little-known yet eminently worthy 1964 musical called High Spirits.

Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York) feels like a wave of the future.

Oedipus is a tough one.

I walked into MasterVoices’ recent concert revival of the musical Sweet Smell of Success at Jazz @ L.C.’s Rose Theater carrying a lot of baggage; or, you might say, bags from the river.

I called Stephen Schwartz to talk about Queen of Versailles after I saw it.

Sometimes you turn up the TV to hear better; other times, to hear better, you just turn it off.

I am not really the audience for Bat Boy: The Musical, so I’m writing about its recent high-octane revival at Encores! as an outsider looking in — kinda like Bat Boy himself but without the fangs.

Oratorio for Living Things, by the recently-MacArthur-awarded composer Heather Christian, has its own antecedents but is still unlike almost anything I’ve heard or seen in the musical theater.

The devastating new production of Ragtime that just opened at Lincoln Center Theater has hurled me back in time to the original Ragtime, which I first saw almost thirty years ago up in Toronto, where Garth Drabinsky, the show’s future-jailbird producer, first mounted it.

We are back.

This is not a book review.

I found writing about Sheila Jordan cathartic.