Sandra Bernhard, REDCAT, Los Angeles, August 12, 2011
Performances run through August 21. www.redcat.org
Sandra Bernhard is back in L.A. for a two-week run at REDCAT to promote her recent album, I Love Being Me, Don’t You? Or perhaps the album promotes the tour–it’s hard to say since she included hardly any of the recorded material in her 100-minute performance Friday night. If you know Bernhard only through YouTube videos or guest appearances on talk shows, or even from her albums, you don’t know her vast range until you’ve seen her live. The show was a balanced blend of standup, stories, and music.
Bernhard’s an assured, emotional singer, and the audience responded to the risk inherent in the intermixing of music and narrative. After all, if the story isn’t strong enough, the music could smother it; likewise, if the story conveys too much, the music could seem gimmicky. In more than one sequence, the exquisite tension she created between sentiment and raucous hilarity left us wondering if we should laugh or send condolences. Sure, she took a few of her trademark cheap shots at the celebrities who are the typical easy targets. She has insisted in interviews that she’s not being cruel with these remarks, just honest, and we would expect no less from her. But the highlights of her show weren’t the insults–what she did best was that inspired threading of songs and stories.
Throughout the show it was obvious that she had power to burn, that she could probably have performed another hour without letting up. She emphasized during the show that she’s a working mother, not so that we would feel sorry for her, I suppose, but so that we would understand that this stage work takes preparation, that it’s no accident that she’s in condition to give us what we came for, and we should be grateful that she held up her end of the bargain. And because she has material to spare, the show won’t be stale after several nights.
Sometimes she riffed so quickly during her improv moments that she faltered–she was willing to sacrifice perfect delivery for the sake of spontaneity; after all, the show isn’t an act, it’s Sandra Bernhard being herself and she didn’t want to act like herself. But the songs were tightly rehearsed, and even if some of the tunes were chosen for ironic reasons, she never made fun of the music itself or left any doubt about its value to her. She picked tunes from her lifetime: ’60s anthems, Motown, current girl bands, the Beatles. Fortunately, her splendid band—musical director/pianist Carla Pattulo, drummer Alex Stickles, guitarist Mike Manning, and background vocalist Jason Joseph—are serious pros and stayed out of the way when their star was solo. But when she took a five-minute break, they took on Paul Desmond’s “Take Five” with genuine enthusiasm and terrific solos from Manning and Stickles. When she returned, she and Jason Joseph did some fine harmony work.
It’s not as though everything in Bernhard’s life is funny–she just keeps us interested, even with the occasional lack of a punch line. We trust her, despite her making things difficult for us. I won’t share any of her astounding lines, but offer this instead: Bernhard is a fearless artist who turns her life and opinions into humor that invites us to be disturbed and sometimes outraged. She allows herself to feel more deeply and express more completely than most of us have the courage to do.
I have been in love with this woman since, I don’t know, forever. What a joy it was to see her in action. And the graciousness with which she treated her audience. Except for one or two assholes. I like that she doesn’t take shit from the few reckless individuals who think they are there to be seen. It’s Sandra’s show. Don’t get in her way.