Chip Deffaa is a polymath: an author, playwright, screenwriter, jazz/music historian, director and music producer, whose credits are, proverbially, as long as your arm—largely based in his knowledge of early 20th-century show business and the “Golden Age” of American popular song. For 18 years he was an entertainment critic for 
The New York Post, plus, Deffaa has authored nine books, written approximately 20 plays and produced more than 48 albums. Among his citations are the ASCAP Deems Taylor Award and an IRNE (Independent Reviewers of New England) Award. And he may just be getting started. His new project is a very new CD, Chip Deffaa—Down in Honky Tonk Town.
NiteLifeExchange (NLE) asks Chip Deffaa (CD) Six Questions:
NLE: You’re frequently juggling multiple creative projects. What are you currently working on, and what can audiences and artists look forward to from you in the near future?
CD: First, thanks for having me! Right now, I’m excited because I have a brand-new CD out, titled Chip Deffaa—Down in Honky Tonk Town. I’m singing the old-time jazz, blues, and vaudeville numbers I’ve loved all my life, with terrific guest stars—Jerry Vivino, Lee Roy Reams, Jon Peterson, Ingrid Lucia, Michael Townsend Wright, Miss Maybell, and all. You can hear the joy we had making 
that album! And I’m also getting a kick out of occasionally singing numbers from the album “live” here and there. I’m looking forward to singing, for example, at Carol Sudhalter’s Flushing Town Hall jazz concert, and sitting in with Jerry Vivino at his next gig. I’m grateful that there are people who “get” what I’m doing. When I released my last vocal album, Chip Deffaa’s Tin Pan Alley, I was very happily surprised when one radio host, on KPFA-FM, played every single track on his show. He said: “Your album’s alive, and it’s organic. That’s rare. And that’s art.”
He asked who my arranger was. I laughed. I like to sing from memory—no arrangements, no sheet music in front of me. I can’t read sheet music. The songs I sing have long been part of me. I’ll sing ‘em when I feed my deer, or when I’m out hiking. For “Royal Garden Blues,” I simply told Jerry Vivino (sax) and Richard Danley (piano), “Let’s do ‘Royal Garden Blues.’ I want to shout the blues, one chorus like this”—and then I sang a chorus a capella to give them an idea of the tempo of my vocal chorus. I added: “Before and after I sing, you guys can play as much or as little as you like, with whatever tempo or feel you like. Surprise me!” Richard started nice and easy, picked up the tempo for my vocal, then Jerry grabbed the ball and ran with it. I mean, Jerry just improvised on the blues, and my jaw dropped; I know when I’m in the presence of greatness. I said: “We’re not doing a second take. 
We can’t beat that!” Jerry and Richard were so inspiring. That was one of the most exhilarating days of my life. Jerry’s recorded with top artists from Bruce Springsteen and Bette Midler on down, and I’ve always loved his work. And he was really on fire that day. I can’t wait to do it again some time.
But every guest star on the album was chosen with care, and I wanted to showcase them as much as me. Just bantering at the microphone with Lee Roy Reams—whose work I’ve relished since I was a teen—was a treat. His great personality comes through so vividly on the album, whether he’s singing or just speaking to me, off-the-cuff. I adore Lee Roy, and it meant more to me than he could imagine to have him as a guest. And the musicians—violinist Andy Stein, trumpeter Simon Wettenhall, banjo-player Gavin Rice—are tops in this idiom.
What’s coming up next? I plan to release a new CD celebrating George M. Cohan—including some wonderful, rare and never-before recorded songs. I’ll have some of my favorite singers on it—including Seth Sikes, Nicolas King, Josephine Sanges and Jon Peterson, who’s such a master song-and-dance man. I’ve actually produced more recordings of Cohan’s music—and of Irving Berlin’s music—than any producer living. Cohan’s been a great favorite of mine since I was nine.
Jonathan Sonneborn and I are developing a new musical about Al Jolson. This spring we’ll put out a studio cast album. We do a podcast version of the show, continue work-shopping the show, and then see where we can mount a first-stage production. I’m enjoying 
working with Jonathan tremendously. I’m very lucky I get to do work I love with people I love.
Whatever projects I’m working on, I try to give 100%. I’ve been collecting Jolson recordings since I was a kid. I’ve produced six CDs of rare and never-before-released Jolson recordings from my personal collection. I’ll share a photo with you of me holding the latest Jolson album I’ve put out (Al Jolson: Wondrous Rarities), along with some Jolson memorabilia from my collection—the program and ticket stubs from a 1913 Jolson show at the Winter Garden. Holding those 1913 Broadway ticket stubs makes me feel almost like I was in the theater. I may be the only person alive who has Jolson tickets from 1913.
NLE: You’ve spent decades immersed in jazz, cabaret, and theater—as a creator, historian and critic. From your vantage point, how do you see these three art forms evolving, and where do you believe cabaret fits into the future of live performance?
CD: It’s always hard to predict how any art form might evolve. Things can change dramatically so quickly. Let me give you one example from the past.
When I was working as a child performer, my mentor—whom I idolized—was an aged ex-vaudevillian named 
Todd Fisher. In the 1910s and 1920s, he told me, he enjoyed so much work in vaudeville that he imagined he’d be performing in vaudeville theaters for the rest of his life. There were thousands of vaudeville theaters all across the US, and he could work 50 weeks a year, performing in a different theater each week. In 1925, he said, vaudeville was booming. He never imagined that within just a few years—due to the emergence in the late 1920s of network radio and of talking pictures—vaudeville would be dead. But once everyone could enjoy the best entertainers, at little or no cost, on network radio and in movie theaters, they stopped going to vaudeville. Changing technology changed everything overnight.
How does that story relate to today? I really love all of the “live” performing arts. For me, there’s nothing better than seeing performers “live.” But as A.I. keeps getting better, and virtual reality systems and holographic imagery evolve, people will eventually be able to enjoy — in 3-D‚new concerts by their favorite performers, living or dead, in the comfort of their own homes. And that’s really going to change things, much the same way the arrival of network radio and talking pictures changed everything.
As A.I. gets better, it’s going to become harder to get people to go out to clubs, concert halls and theaters because they’ll be able to see and hear—seemingly “live” and in the flesh—their all-time favorite singers, both alive and dead, 
performing in 3-D in their own homes. And not just singing to them, but talking to them, taking requests. That kind of technology is coming, and some producers are already banking on it.
You’ve probably never heard of Olivier Chastan or his company, Iconoclast. But for five years, Chastan’s company has been quietly acquiring all available rights to various commercially successful artists, past and present—from rap and reggae performers, to Tony Bennett and David Cassidy. In the past two years, Chastan has acquired all rights to Cassidy’s music-publishing catalog, Cassidy’s recordings, and to Cassidy’s “name, image and likeness,” for a sum reportedly upwards of $10 million, according to Music Business Worldwide.
As virtual reality and artificial intelligence technologies continue to advance, a company that owns all imaginable rights to iconic artists may be able to produce new recordings, films, concerts, nightclub appearances and so on, featuring legendary deceased stars. And eventually there will also be new A.I. “stars”—entertainers wholly created by A.I., singing songs wholly written by A.I. Such developments will really shake things up….
There are also ongoing cultural shifts that are making these increasingly challenging times for the live performing arts. Here in New York—America’s cultural capital—people simply 
aren’t staying out as late as they used to enjoy nightlife. There are fewer clubs, and almost no clubs left that book performers for long runs. In the 1980s and 1990s, I enjoyed going to many top-tier clubs that would routinely hire singers for engagements lasting a month or more. But those days are gone. I miss those great rooms that offered those extended bookings: the Algonquin’s Oak Room, the Ballroom, Rainbow & Stars, Michael’s Pub, Tavern on the Green, Feinstein’s at the Regency…. Having long residencies at prestigious rooms made it easier for talented performers to get press coverage and grow their audiences—and have an impact.
And New York City—once known as “the city that never sleeps”—now goes to sleep earlier. In the 1980s and ‘90s, I could attend a Broadway show and after the performance was over, head to a top cabaret venue like the Oak Room or a top jazz club like the Village Vanguard and enjoy a late set. When Ruth Brown was starring on Broadway in Black and Blue (1989-91), she’d do her Broadway show from 8-11 pm, then often head over to the Lonestar Café and sing some more. I’d see her raising the roof for an appreciative packed house at midnight.
When I mounted my Chip Deffaa Invitational Theater Festival in 2002— presenting more than two dozen different shows and acts over six weeks—I 
could present shows at midnight (as well as at 6 PM, 8 PM and 10 PM) and know audiences would turn out. Even at midnight. But times change.
NLE: Cabaret has proven remarkably resilient, even as the entertainment landscape continues to shift. What do you think cabaret offers—artistically and culturally—that keeps it vital in changing times?
CD: There’s a basic human need for intimacy, for connection with another person. And a good cabaret performance can address some of that emotional need in a way that film or television does not. (We don’t yet know if A.I. will ever be able to fully duplicate the emotional experience of a good live performance in a club.) A vital, affecting “live” performance offers its own unique rewards. I’d go see Julie Wilson every chance I could and feel nurtured by her work. For years, she was the “Queen of Cabaret”—a master of the medium. In her 70s and 80s, she could talk-sing her way through a Sondheim song, bringing all of her life-experience to bear, and make it a profound, unforgettable experience. Her vocal range was not big, but boy, she could move people!
NLE: Having covered the arts for The New York Post for 18 years, while simultaneously creating 
work for the stage and studio, you’ve seen trends rise and fall. What lessons from the past do today’s cabaret and theater artists most need to remember?
CD: I’d advise any aspiring performer, playwright or songwriter—don’t worry about “trends” or try to do what is “trendy.” Sing the songs you love, write the songs and scripts that you really want to write. Find your own voice. What’s trendy one minute will be “out” the next. Tony Bennett—a master song stylist, with impeccable taste—never chased after what was trendy. When disco was all the rage, he didn’t record a “Tony Bennett Goes Disco” album. He had great musical integrity. As, of course, did Frank Sinatra. And Joe Williams. And other masters. They sang the songs they loved—with conviction—through good times and bad.
One fine young singer I’ve worked with, who’s in her 20s, came to me right after Sondheim died and said she wanted to do a cabaret show and album in tribute to Sondheim. I asked her what her favorite Sondheim songs were. She said she didn’t really know Sondheim’s work, but since everyone was talking so much about him, she figured a cabaret show and album of his songs would be popular. I told her: “Don’t do it! That’s the wrong motivation for doing a show or an album, and if you’re not really interested in Sondheim, the audience will sense the disconnect. Your performance will sound generic. If I took you to an open-mic where you could sing any songs you chose, tell me what songs you’d pick to sing.” She named a half dozen songs she really loved—all of which were far from Sondheim’s world. I told her: “If you’re planning your first cabaret show, start with songs you really love; your enthusiasm will be contagious.”
NLE: Much of your work 
celebrates legacy artists—Cohan, Berlin, Mercer, Brice—yet your projects consistently engage contemporary performers. How can cabaret artists honor tradition while still speaking urgently to modern audiences?
CD: I’ll tell younger singers: “I need you to respect the songwriter’s intentions. But don’t copy any previous singer’s recording. This isn’t a museum piece. I want your personality to come through. Communicate how you feel, like you’re talking with your friends. Open yourself up emotionally; let people feel a connection with you.”
And I try to find the right singer for each song—one who’ll instinctively know how to communicate that song’s message. When I found a beautiful but little-known Cohan song called “Let’s You and I Just Say Goodbye,” I knew I wanted Nicolas King to record it. I knew he’d find the beauty in it, and also the heartbreak. This was written by a mature Cohan, a man who’d gotten divorced from the woman he’d once loved. In the song, he’s singing that it’s better to split up than “live a lie.”
King, now in his 30s, has matured into a terrific jazz-tinged singer with superbmusical instincts. He was a good performer when he was a kid—I’ve followed his work since he was just nine years old. He’s an outstanding performer now. He knows how to connect with modern audiences while honoring the intent of the song, and he’s got the life experience to make that song touch us. By way of contrast, if I’m recording a talented 10-year-old kid—who’s never fallen in love, much less broken up—I’ll find him a different kind of song that will work for him.
NLE: Looking ahead, what do you hope the next generation of cabaret and creative artists will carry forward—and what role do you believe writers, composers and storytellers play i
n shaping the future of the form?
CD: George Burns, whom I loved, told me that anyone wanting a career in the arts had better want it more than anything else in the world—as he did—because it’s a very challenging life. Financial success is never guaranteed. And if you’re an aspiring performer, composer, or writer, we’re living in extra-challenging times.
Let’s say you’re a playwright or composer who wants to help create new shows. Regional theaters, nationwide, are producing fewer new works. And grant money for the arts has largely dried up. Goodspeed’s Norma Terris Theater, which for four decades has been solely devoted to developing new musicals, is going to go dark for a year while they reconsider their mission; it will no longer be solely devoted to developing new works. The Williamstown Theater Festival, which has also long been a major incubator for new shows, will be dark this summer. These are huge losses for the creative community.
It’s harder than ever to raise money for new shows. And only 10% of Broadway musicals have been making a profit in recent years. Alicia Keyes’ Broadway musical Hell’s Kitchen closed at a sizable loss, and it had been playing in one of Broadway’s most coveted theaters, the Shubert, on the best block in the theater district—44th Street between 8th Avenue and Broadway. Now every single Broadway theater on that block–the Majestic, the St. James, the Hayes, the Shubert, the Broadhurst—is dark.I’ve never seen that happen before in my lifetime. And I’ve been an avid theater-goer since seeing My Fair Lady in its original Broadw
ay run.
If you’re an up-and-coming cabaret artist releasing your first album, there are far fewer radio hosts than there used to be who will play such an album. I remember Nancy LaMott telling me in the early 1990s, when she was emerging as a major new cabaret artist, how happy she was that radio listeners in every part of America could hear recordings of hers. If a new Nancy LaMott emerged today, she’d find such radio hosts an increasingly rare breed. For nearly 50 years, David Kenney’s Everything Old is New Again radio show on WBAI-FM in New York has been a leader in the field. He celebrates cabaret artists and the ever-evolving Great American Songbook with knowledge and unflagging zest. He deserves great credit and recognition. We must not take shows like his for granted. In a lot of ways, these are tough times for aspiring artists.
But if you want a career in the arts badly enough, you’ll find a way to make itwork for you. George Burns, off-stage, radiated contentment. He told me he didn’t achieve much success as a performer—at least in financial terms—until he was 30. But he always felt that he was doing exactly what he was meant to do—he was making good use of the talents he had–and that gave him satisfaction. The work was its own reward. He told me, in his 90s, he never wanted to retire. I found him inspiring. Someday, I really wa
nt to do a show about George Burns. He was one of my all-time favorites out of all the people I’ve known or met. There are just so many things I’d like to do before the barn doors close.
Sometimes, younger performers I’ll work with will ask me: “Do you think I can make it in show business?” And they’ll tell me their dream is to be a super-famous, super-rich celebrity, or something like that. And I’ll tell them a better goal is to try to be the best version of themselves they can be—to become as good a singer (or actor or writer or whatever they want to be) as they possibly can. And to have fun doing it. I think of performers I’ve known—and have greatly appreciated, both on stage and off—like Carol Channing, Ruth Brown, Cab Calloway. They each developed a sound and style that made them immediately recognizable. And they all found ways—despite the ups and downs that are part of any artist’s life—to really enjoy life.
I learned from them. And I try to pass on to the younger performers I work with things that those greats taught me.
NiteLife Exchange Six Questions is devised and managed by NLE factotum, Tommy Batchelor
