By Marilyn Lester***What lies beyond the stratosphere? If you were at any one of Marilyn Maye’s concerts in her recent turn at 54 Below, you’ll know that you were launched into the mesosphere—a flying high place of rarity, 
reserved for only a handful of the artists that the great Duke Ellington called “beyond category.” Never one to rest on her laurels, Maye created a new show—essentially a memoir in song—with Johnny Carson as a co-star. Not only was The Marvelous one Carson’s favorite singer, appearing on “The Tonight Show” an amazing 76 times, but this year is Carson’s centenary ( October 23, 1925), a milestone to be celebrated.
It was Carson’s pleasure to introduce Maye for the 77th time via the virtual reality of video on the club’s two stage-flanking screens. Opening with an especially spirited “Cabaret” (John Kander, Fred Ebb), memories and more video of Carson followed, as did “The Way We Were” (Marvin Hamlisch, Alan and Marilyn Bergman) and “The Song Is You” (Jerome Kern, Oscar Hammerstein II). What particularly set these numbers apart was that Maye brought out her jazz persona to sing them. She 
famously loves, loves, loves to sing, and when in jazz mode is aglow with swing—and can she swing! For the rest of the program, she returned to the more familiar ground of pop/cabaret, where she’s able to do a deep dive into storytelling. Her brilliant medley (Maye is an ace at those combos) of “Here’s That Rainy Day” (Jimmy Van Heusen, Johnny Burke) with “Stormy Weather” (Harold Arlen, Ted Koehler) was profoundly moving; tissues were produced, particularly when Maye revealed that the former tune was Carson’s favorite song.
Two tributes emerged: one for Steve Allen, the host of “The Tonight Show” before Carson took over for his astounding 30-year run. Allen was a polymath, which included songwriting, and Maye delivered his most famous tune “This Could Be the Start of Something” with uptempo pizzazz. And for friend and songwriter, Larry Kerchner, who was 
scheduled to be in the house but couldn’t make it, she offered “No Bad News” from The Wiz. (The tune is attributed to the late Charlie Smalls, but in fact was the work of Kerchner, who also wrote “”So You Wanted to See the Wizard” and the hit, “Home.”)
As fans of Maye know, she’s witty, humorous and a master of come-backs and one-liners. On this particular evening she was in especially good and jocular form with her band: pianist-arranger and music director Tedd Firth, bassist Tom Hubbard and drummer, Mark McLean. These musicians are her crew; she’s been working with them for years and the groove shows. There’s not only mutual respect, but mutual affection. The cats dig her to the moon and back, and while audiences may not realize it, this synergy is part of what elevates Maye’s shows into that mesosphere above the stratosphere.
This run of shows at 54 Below also revealed Maye at her most intimate: for 
instance memories of loves past, reflected in “Those Were the Days”/”I Will Survive” (Boris Fomin, Gene Raskin/Freddie Perren, Dino Fekaris) delivered with a rock sensibility and intensely evocative. A story about driving to a gig to Estherville, a town in northwestern Iowa, was humorous in itself, especially with the reveal that the tune came to her on the road, causing Maye to pull over and quickly write it down. The cherry on the sundae was the song itself and her delivery of it: downright hilarious. A dip in the waters of R&B/gospel resulted in “Let Me Be There” (John Rostill). Is there any genre she cannot conquer?
And heading toward the finale, the interwoven medley of “Autumn Leaves” (Joseph Kosmo, English lyrics: Johnny Mercer), and perhaps the ultimate supper club tune, the sophisticated “Autumn in New York” (Vernon Duke) and “When October Goes’ (Barry Manilow, Johnny Mercer) checked every box of brilliance: music flawlessly arranged and interpreted. Maye’s encore was a love note to her audience in “That’s All” (Bob Haymes, Alan Brandt.” So goes the lyric, “I can only give you love that lasts forever…” It’s a sentiment that we all return to you, Miss Maye, in spades.
Photos by Jeff Harnar
