Nellie McKay and Eartha Kitt:
Center Stage

By Robert L. Doerschuk

Attitude is elemental to both Eartha Kitt and Nellie McKay, though they are products of radically different times. Kitt-or, as her publicist urgently insisted we call her, Miss Kitt-started life 80 years ago with a single mother who worked the cotton fields of South Carolina and then decided to give her daughter away to a family in Harlem. From there the young girl rose improbably to stardom. Hers was no garden-variety celebrity, though. From her splashy debut in New Faces of 1952 Miss Kitt was unique: a lithe and supple dancer, an exotic beauty and without a doubt the most seductive singer on the planet. Her cream-curdling purr tickled the male imagination and earned her entree into high society, from which she was only briefly expelled after telling Lady Bird Johnson, right there in the White House, what she and Lyndon could do with their war in Vietnam.

Still in her early 20s, Nellie-not yet legend enough to avoid first-name familiarity-plays by more modern rules. After an unamicable split with Columbia Records, she's self-releasing her second CD, Pretty Little Head, an album that seethes with playful irony. (The title of her debut, Get Away From Me, is a sly poke at Norah Jones.) She writes her own material about everything from buying groceries to walking her dog to salvation through marriage. She plays several instruments with breezy facility and draws her inspiration from mainstream pop, Off-Broadway cabaret, and the theater of the absurd.

What on earth could these two have to say to each other? Well, first of all, Nellie has a question.

McKay: What was Orson Welles like?

Kitt: Scary. A great interpreter of words. We used to go to lunch in Paris. It would be Micheal MacLiammoir, Hilton Edwards, Orson, and me. [MacLiammoir played Iago in Welles' Othello. He and Edwards, his longtime companion, founded Dublin's Gate Theater in 1928.] Orson would start with a cordial, and then they would all have a seven-course meal. After each sip of whatever they were drinking, they'd get up and recite Shakespeare or Plato or Camus. And I never said a word. That was one reason why he thought I was the most exciting woman in the world: I kept my mouth shut, and so he thought I was very intelligent. But everything they said stimulated another part of the brain and brought on another side of the conversation. We're not doing that today. We watch television and think about what somebody said a hundred years ago, but not what somebody said yesterday.

Harp: You could deal with that by doing a more topical act.

Kitt: I don't believe in doing political philosophy onstage. If you want to entertain in a political way, then do it away from the legitimate stage.

McKay: Well, I'm going to do The Three-Penny Opera on Broadway [opening in April 2006]. That makes people think, but it's in the context of the story and it has incredible music. It's really about things that affect everybody.

Kitt: Which character are you going to play?

McKay: Polly Peachum.

Kitt: [Sings] "I was young, only just turned 16, when you came up from Burma to me." Is that one of your songs?

McKay: Yes, but it's a different translation. I like your words, though. Maybe we can change them.

Kitt: They tell me that the translations I had were better because they're more simplified. That's a very political show, so people know what they're going to hear. But you don't just blurt things out because that's the way you feel. You can't preach to the audience when they're coming to hear you sing "Santa Baby."

McKay: I know a lot of feminists who go to pro-choice rallies and marches, but in their careers - maybe as actors - they do things I don't really consider feminist. I don't want that contradiction. My life work is to represent what I believe and not have them be two separate things.

Harp: You're saying that your stage persona is pretty close to who you are in real life.

McKay: I just know that onstage I'm more obnoxious.

Kitt: Now, why would you say that?

McKay: Because you know what you want to get across, whereas I usually feel a little lost onstage. I'm not exactly sure where I am or what I'm doing there.

Kitt: Well, you're observing what is going on around you. You're growing. You're trying to find a way. So it's healthy that you are, I would say, a little bit confused, because you haven't become whoever it is that you're aiming to be.

McKay: Right, but I like obnoxious songs too.

Kitt: Is that why you write songs? You're mirroring yourself?

McKay: Yeah. It's kind of creepy, really. I tend to write when there's nothing better to do. Sometimes something happy moves me to write, but more often it's anger or a sense of loss. It's all about finding strength. You're in a stronger position than a lot of other actors and singers who don't have as strong a personality as you do. And I'm in a stronger position because I write my own stuff.

Kitt: You're writing about your own feelings, happy or otherwise.

McKay: Well, my own feelings, and sometimes the feelings of others. I think there's such a thing as a national mood or even a neighborhood mood. You see things happening everywhere and you try to affect that, not preaching to the choir or to the majority but to put what you believe to be the truth in a way so that everybody knows where I'm coming from.

Kitt: People like [Stephen] Sondheim, the Gershwins and Cole Porter always wrote songs that gave a feeling that the writer has lived. These songs are very difficult to find. Songs aren't as profound, intelligent, or meaningful as they used to be. Lots of times I get songs that are risque, because everyone believes that Eartha Kitt sings risque songs. But I've never sung a risque song in my life! I don't think of myself as a sex symbol. Actually, it's a joke to me. My whole life has been a joke. [laughs]

McKay: Actually, we first met in Chicago, when we sang a Gershwin song that Miss Kitt just hated [laughs]. It was one of the highlights of the show when she said that to the audience. [The occasion was Play It Again: The Music of Woody Allen, a concert presented in July 2005 at the Ravinia Amphitheater.]

Kitt: [Music director] Dick Hyman wanted us to sing this song together. He chose the whole program-right, Nellie?

McKay: That's correct, yeah.

Kitt: He wanted us to sing this song ["They're Either Too Young or Too Old," used by Allen in the soundtrack to Radio Days], so he gave us this song, and I couldn't stand it. [Both laugh, and Miss Kitt sings, in kewpie-doll mimicry,] "They're either too young or too old" Oh, goodness gracious me. It was wartime, and all the boys were off at the war, and all that were left behind were the very young and the very old. As far as I'm concerned, the song degrades them all.

Harp: It must be hard to get through material that you don't like onstage.

Kitt: That's why I told the audience that I hate this song! Nellie, it was very nice of you to have gone along with it, because you weren't expecting me to do that.

McKay: Oh, no, it was wonderful!

Kitt: I was just glad to see that as young as you are, darling, you have a good sense of hew-mah.

Harp: What are audiences looking for these days?

Kitt: People are getting tired of noise and looking for the kind of quality we used to have as artists who could take an intimate cabaret feeling into a bigger arena without losing anything.

McKay: Well, certainly, that intimacy is lacking from a lot of things, but my generation has a certain amount of cynicism. That's healthy because they're so used to being lied to that they feel there's no room for idealism anymore. The politicians are all pro-war. You never see someone on the news saying, "I don't think there should be any war," but that's a pertinent message. I don't see why it's any more inconceivable than hurting people. Kitt: Right, but at this time we don't want to embarrass the boys who are fighting for our freedom. We should be embracing the president rather than weakening the country from the inside, because when you weaken the country it's easy for the enemy to take over.

Harp: But you spoke out against President Johnson's war policies in the Vietnam era.

Kitt: That was because I was asked to come to the White House in order to give my opinion about why there was so much juvenile delinquency in the streets of America. I knew that Mrs. Johnson was going to ask about the boys who had run away from the United States, not because they didn't like America but because they thought our position in Vietnam was incorrect and illegal. So that's what I told her, because I give my opinion when I'm asked, but I don't stand on a box at a corner somewhere.

McKay: Right, but the '60s showed that you can provide entertainment while actually doing something about a given situation. And it can be fun to challenge the system. Kitt: You can't change the system. You can change the president, but…

McKay: But I also don't try to make my audience happy. I mean, I don't set out to make them unhappy, but if I think too much about what they want, I don't think I could perform anymore. Actually, a really hostile, aggressive audience can make me do a better show than a friendly, overly indulgent audience-an audience where you say "hello" and they laugh, or you say, "this is my next song," and they applaud. That's fine, but I'm thinking, "I'm not being funny right now. Why are you laughing?" But especially when you're opening for other people, if they ignore you and boo and get to the verge of throwing things, I perform better.

Harp: You've been in near-riot situations?

McKay: Well, in Germanic countries, especially around soccer season, yeah, they can get pretty hostile.

Kitt: But you learn from that. Audiences are always the best directors. You're always auditioning for the interpretation of the next song or even the next moment within the song you're singing.

McKay: My mom worked briefly with Yul Brynner and she said the same thing. But you certainly don't act like you're auditioning.

Kitt: Well, I never feel that the audience is going to be on my side. If one person gets up or sneezes, I feel rejected. You have to conquer that, if you're going to leave the stage knowing that you've done the best job you could do.

First printed in March/April 2006