The Joiner: Boston Association of Cabaret Artists

BACA has fought to reverse that decline since its inception. According to BACA President Kevin Luey, the group "wants to make cabaret recognizable and respectable, like jazz."

BACA began in 1995, with a gathering in singer Mary Scarlotta's living room. Those assembled had taken some cabaret classes together and wanted to continue performing and honing their skills. There was one problem. In the mid-90s Boston didn't have a cabaret scene.

It was a situation the group set out to change. "It was like, 'Okay. Who knows any piano bars where we can go and do an open mic? Who knows an accompanist?'" said DeLorenzo. The group became a network, making connections between cabaret enthusiasts who had never met and providing a ready-made audience -- the membership -- for cabaret performers who did have engagements.

Their efforts paid off. "Since we've formed, there have been piano bars popping up around town," DeLorenzo said. "Many of our members now have regular nights." There are now cabaret shows at Club Cafe, the Encore Lounge at Tremont Hotel, Machine on Boyston and dbar in Dorchester.

Dennis Livingston, a BACA Director, believes that a cabaret revival is overdue. "Cabaret comes back. It doesn't go away because the music is great."

American cabaret emerged in New York in the 20s but had roots in 19th Century Paris. It was an urban phenomenon, that spread rapidly across the country. By the 40s, there were piano bars in every major city, where there were a strong concentrations of singers, fans and pianos. At the height of cabaret, a fan could wander a city all night, stopping at different bars and restaurants to catch a variety of performers.

As Livingston put it, "Cabaret, [which] we now see as really sort of a niche field, used to be all there was in pop music."

Rock killed cabaret. As new forms of popular music swept the country, cabaret shifted to the margins, flourishing only in strongholds like New York City. But BACA members believe that Americans might be ready for its return.

"A lot the pop songs in the Top 40 are generic," Livingston noted. "[Cabaret songs] tell stories. 'I love you, what are you doing tonight?' that's not a story."

Hildy Grossman, a BACA performer, would agree that today's fans want what cabaret can offer. Grossman, a woman with medium length brown hair, a striking profile and smoky eyes performs with The Follen Angels, a cabaret ensemble that includes her daughter.

"The world is so freaking crazy right now with war and everything else. You can think back to a different time with all these great lyrics. You can wear a long white dress and have an evening of elegance and glamour," she said.

Nostalgia seems an obvious attraction to BACA. A laminated sign greeting visitors to the Fall Celebration read, "It's OK to feel like a kid again." Members drank the glamor drinks of yesteryear, martinis and gin and tonics. But there is also something new about BACA and the scene it is creating. Members communicate through email, and the Board of Directors is working to build a searchable database to help compatible performers meet one another. And people are still writing the music.

Livingston, dressed in a black loose-fitting shirt, black jeans, his wavy grey hair parted to the side, is a modern cabaret composer. He bristles at the suggestion that the art form is past its prime. "Many people are writing in the cabaret style, with contemporary attitudes and language," he said. "We can use words that [the original cabaret composers] never could."

President Kevin Luey is one man who found something contemporary in cabaret. A computer engineer, Luey would find himself working late into the night. Cabaret performances, which would only be getting started as he got off work, were inviting.

"If you want to unwind after a long, long day on computers, you want to go to a place that's quiet. When the choice is a night club or a piano bar with an open mic, the piano bar is better," he said.

Luey isn't a singer or a composer. He claims that he can barely carry a tune. But he is an organizer. His goal as President is to develop BACA into a more effective resource for cabaret professionals, a task that he wants to carry out while not alienating members who, like him, are simple fans.

The rather impromptu theme of the Fall Celebration seemed to be piracy. There were posters from the recent Pirates of the Caribbean film scattered throughout the room and BACA members wore leis around their necks. The Master of Cermonies Brian Patton sat behind a large grand piano on the stage, covered by a large doily, with a tip bucket to one side and a bust of what appeared to be Marie Antoinette on the other. Offset by black velvet curtains, Patton played in an open neck shirt and a jacket. And he knew how to work the crowd.

Singers took their turns on the mic, getting congratulations for their efforts. ("Good to see you. Good singing. Good song. Pure fun," former President Jim Keating told one performer as he left the event.) The crowd chatted among itself, for the most part, but there was a spontaneous sing-a-long when one performer belted out Joe Raposo's Sesame Street standard, "Sing." ("Sing, sing a song, sing out loud, sing out strong.")

"That could be our theme song," Livingston said.

Bostonist left the event as a woman finished her version of "La Vie en Rose." She started off shaky, but, as she hooked into the melody, she became more assured, until she was doing something masterful with it.

We walked down the darkened hallway with her melodic voice still in our ears and reentered the world of thumping R&B, where young men lined up along the bar with identical slick haircuts and costly casual sweaters.

The Boston Association of Cabaret Artists maintains calendars of upcoming events. Membership is open to any cabaret fan. The cost is $40/household; $20 for students.