You'd think a cabaret show about torch songs would practically ooze emotion.
You'd think it would fairly gush with pathos, one tear-jerker tune tumbling onto another.
But you'd be wrong, at least if the show is conceived and performed by Andrea Marcovicci, who has produced a decidedly high-toned look at the genre in "Blue Champagne: The History of the Torch Song," which opened Wednesday night at Davenport's.
This doesn't mean that "Blue Champagne" lacks heart or insight into that pulpiest of all American song forms. Marcovicci achieves many beautifully poetic moments throughout the evening, yet her approach emphasizes subtlety over sorrow, intellectual acuity over slit-your-wrists expressionism.
The tension between the dark currents of much of this music and Marcovicci's high-sheen interpretations makes for fascinating listening, as if a savvy musical scholar were walking us through the history of the form while trying not to be subsumed by it. So audiences that prefer their torch songs served hot — as in the smoldering interpretations of Judy Garland or the simmering ones of Billie Holiday — will not find scalding passion here.
Instead, Marcovicci offers a series of exquisitely controlled miniatures, each vignette a little drama unto itself, built not on huge climaxes but on delicate turns of phrase and lovely shifts in timbre. You need to listen a little more keenly when Marcovicci is at work, and the closer you lean in, the more you take away.
Even if Marcovicci wasn't discussing the evolution of torch during her between-song patter, her singing would illuminate the idiom. For although she revisits much familiar repertoire, her readings are so unusual as to force the listener to reassess previously held opinions.
"The Man I Love" has been a staple among late-night saloon singers for ages, yet Marcovicci's radical revision underscores the enduring power of the original, as well as the timelessness of the genre. Speaking some lines, singing others, lingering on certain syllables, rushing ahead with particular phrases, Marcovicci achieves considerable dramatic impact — without resorting to histrionics. Here, at last, is a torch singer who conveys respect for the intelligence of the listener.
Marcovicci's unapologetically idiosyncratic pacing proves even more radical in a medley of "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" and "Say It Isn't So," her pauses unexpected, her stop-start rhythms reflecting the subtext of the drama as much as its surface meaning.
We're all accustomed to a ballad approach to the venerable "Body and Soul," but Marcovicci puckishly chooses a medium dance tempo, pushing rhythmically forward where other singers (and instrumentalists) revel in slow-and-dreamy passage work. The tragedy lurks beneath the surface of this performance, making it all the more poignant.
Yes, it's impossible to hear Marcovicci sing "Love Me or Leave Me" and not recall the surging power of Doris Day's version (from the film of the same name). And Marcovicci ventures way out on a limb when she dares to take on repertoire of Edith Piaf, such as "La Vie en Rose." But Marcovicci attains a few chesty low notes of her own on "Love Me or Leave Me," and her sustained lines in Piaf convey an appealing glow.
The most telling moment of all comes in more recent fare: "Lies of Handsome Men," by Francesca Blumenthal. Any fine cabaret singer could capture the protagonist's self-deception — the lyrics witheringly tell the story of a woman who feeds on silly effusions. But Marcovicci, a skilled actor, goes a step deeper, showing a character who knows she's being duped, and smiles blissfully every step of the way. Delicious.
Marcovicci's longtime pianist, Shelly Markham, provides glistening accompaniments, nowhere more effectively than in "Love Me or Leave Me"; and bassist Scott Mason supports the proceedings sensitively, though he's still trying to get in sync with Markham and Marcovicci's timing, honed through many years.
Even so, torch never sounded so smart.
'Blue Champagne: The History of the Torch Song'
When: 8 p.m. Friday and Saturday; 7 p.m. Sunday
Where: Davenport's, 1383 N. Milwaukee Ave.
Admission: $40 and two-drink minimum; 773-278-1830 or davenportspianobar.com