Brian Feldman’s Under The Covers
Brian Feldman’s Under The Covers
with Steve Merritt on keyboard
February 11, 2012
Hyatt Regency Orlando International Airport
Orlando, FL</strong>
There’s nothing wrong with the Airport Hyatt, so long as you’re a flight crew or a businessman with an early flight tomorrow. But up in room 7114, there was a small slice of elegance. A bartender passed out good wine, a keyboard warmed up in the corner, and trendy high intensity LED lighting gave the room a martini bar ambiance. Underneath a poly fill quilt and a hypoallergenic sheet lay Brian Feldman decked out in his shorts and an LED head lamp. As the bouncer seated the audience, quite a few familiar faces appeared. I’ll say this about the Orlando Arts Scene: It’s just a bit incestuous.
“Feldman wows the crowd.”
This is Mr. Feldman’s last Orlando event for a while, he’s moving up to Washington D.C. where for all we know he might read the entire Congressional Record or try to filibuster Abe Lincoln as he sits looking at the Mall. But tonight we’re in that special place called “Cabaret” and Feldman’s going to sing our requests. Of course, he’s a bit shy, so he’s hiding and you can see the covers rising and falling as he hyperventilates. It’s show time! The keyboard swells, an introduction flows, and Feldman opens with “Some Enchanted Evening.” He’s not a bad singer for a balding Jewish performance artist, but his shtick of singing under the covers makes the bed look like a Mr. Snuffleupagus is attempting to rape Big Bird. The songs flow quickly, he works though the cabaret favorites “Working in a Coal Mine” and Disney’s “Tiki Room” and then into the smarmy “Wherever You Go, Whatever You Do” and a saxophone enhanced “Kokomo.” It’s hard work singing in bed, and not everyone showed up tonight, but that’s OK – its blowout closer time, and Feldman leaves us wanting more, even if it’s Wham’s “Careless Whisper.” I’ve been in longer cabarets, but none funnier.
“After the big event.”
After the show, we hung out in the hall like groupies. Feldman appearing a white sheet, drained but energetic, and he thanked us all as the hotel’s banquet staff looked on in confusion. Down in the lobby, we looked out over the TSA screening area, now nearly empty. It’s a lonely feeling, like something neat has ended, and will never come back.
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