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She talks about sloppy sex, having abortions after sloppy sex, getting blackout drunk, the many varieties of “titties,” her genitalia, her parents’ genitalia, her audience members’ genitalia-but it’s all too joyful to feel especially transgressive. In a signature song, she belts, “What I gotta do to get that dick in my mouth?” and then makes everyone sing along.
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Traditionally, she ends the show by picking a man out of the crowd and sitting on his face.Įverything about Everett is large: her pipes (she studied operatic voice in college), her libido, her stage presence, and her body, which she uses as gelignite to spark a crowd into a willing frenzy. In her live shows, which she and her band, the Tender Moments, perform regularly at Joe’s Pub, the cabaret arm of the Public Theatre, she prowls the audience in skimpy, outrageous outfits, guzzling Chardonnay from a bottle and burying spectators’ faces in her bosom. “Everybody be on your best behavior.” No. 1 on the call sheet was Bridget Everett, the forty-nine-year-old comedian, vocalist, and, as she likes to describe herself, “regionally recognized cabaret singer.” Everett is the star of “Somebody Somewhere,” which premières this month and is largely based on her life and her home town of Manhattan, Kansas.Įverett is not known for staying on her best behavior, or even her better behavior. “No. 1 is here,” the assistant director announced. After a few takes, another combustive force entered the room.
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The new series “Somebody Somewhere” was shooting at a funeral home, and the fumes had flustered a lighting guy. One June day in Romeoville, Illinois, a small town outside Chicago, an HBO crew ran into an unexpected obstacle: smoke billowing from a crematorium. From down here, the most outrageous number looks to be “Let Me Live,” an inspired version of Pat Boone’s saccharine anti-abortion song, sung here by the heroic Cole Escola, that is just too funny for me to give the joke away.This content can also be viewed on the site it originates from. That sweetness is delivered like a gift in “Get Over You,” a bluesy lament for a lost love “Why Don’t You Kiss Me,” a candid expression of honest desire and “I’ll Take You Home,” which is just flat-out beautiful.īut enough tenderness - let’s hit the dirt. (Nipsey Russell? Jessica Fletcher?) But for the most part, the unprintable lyrics are wickedly witty and sung with great gusto by Everett, who has beaucoup stage presence and a strong voice - not quite powerhouse, but close to it - that can also be surprisingly sweet. Some of the cultural references are head-scratchers.
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There are ten of these songs in the show, written by Everett with her main collaborators, Shaiman and Wittman (“Hairspray,” “Catch Me If You Can”), and served up at full volume by a four-piece onstage band who aren’t ashamed to call themselves The Tender Moments, with a boost from two backup singers. The lady sure does like her men, as attested to by the clever graphics (by Mary Matthews) to “A Man So Fine.” But if she can’t have Daniel Craig, she’ll settle for whoever’s available - and may the gods help those old guys sitting ringside.
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Whatever you may think of the generously endowed body she displays with pride (“Eat It” is her cheerful directive in one song), this is one big girl who is happy in her skin - and falling out of the super-sized costumes that Larry Krone has cunningly designed for maximum exposure. Bridget Everett (who graciously acknowledges herself to be a “regionally recognizable cabaret singer”) is every bit as joyously uninhibited as the sexually liberated persona she presents on stage. That’s the big revelation in this slickly mounted 90-minute cabaret show commissioned by Joe’s Pub. The singer-songwriter-performer-provocateur broadened her audience base when she appeared on Comedy Central’s “Inside Amy Schumer,” but there’s nothing quite like seeing her live and onstage, in the (considerable and barely covered) flesh. But you’ll just have to take my word on that, since most of the song lyrics in “Rock Bottom,” Everett’s rollicking cabaret show currently playing at Joe’s Pub (and featuring tunes co-written by Broadway babies Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman as well as Beastie Boy Adam “Ad-Rock” Horovitz) are unprintable and her best comedy routines are obscene.
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This old town hasn’t seen a dame as bawdy as Bridget Everett since those big fat mamas who stripped for free drinks at Sammy’s Bowery Follies.