It’s been two weeks since our final concert at the Yale Cabaret Conference. By now, I thought I’d be in the last days of a Convalescence Period, resting quietly in my slippers and robe, reminiscing about how fun it had been and wondering what I would do with all my time. Little did I know, July 31st was only the end of The Incubation Period, and I am now very much in the grip of The Invasive Period of Cabaret Fever.
Sadly, there are no drugs to treat Cabaret Fever. You just have to suffer through it, as attempts to treat the disease either require complete separation from all family and friends, or result in terrible side effects ranging from Prozac Cabaret (the kind of cabaret where you turn up for a show and, regardless of what happens on stage, you don’t really care) to Viagra Cabaret (a show that is so up and hard you may remember it forever, but are too exhausted to continue the treatment).
No, you really do just have to suffer through it, listening to hundreds of songs every day and scanning hundreds of websites to drill down through the layers of research needed to pick perfect pieces. It’s a mercurial illness, with songs that stick one day, coming unglued the next, as patter that peaks today falls tomorrow due to over-beating . And, nastiest of all, when you least expect it, the clocks change, and what was 11 o’clock yesterday, feels like 10 o’clock or, worse yet, midnight.
I am, I gather, still in the early stages of this disease. To those who’ve been caught in the contagion of Cabaret Fever before me, this is all so very old hat. They nod knowingly, but never once has anyone said, “You’ll get over it!”
To cope with this illness, I keep track of my symptoms, carrying around tiny notebooks: one for quotes, one for lyrics (parodies and original), and one for song ideas. Everyday I put these notes into an appropriate google doc…and then cross reference them across the 15 show ideas I’ve got running like caged hamsters on a feeding wheel in my mind. Each show has its own song spreadsheet – name, composer, lyricist, date of composition, show, running time, who recorded it, do I have the music, what key do I sing it in? Each spreadsheet, in turn, is linked to a youtube favorites playlist, so I can check the order of the songs and mix them up. Did I mention that Cabaret Fever also breeds its own type of OCD – Obsessive Cabaret Disorder?
I wake up in the middle of the night and slip out of the bedroom to meet my fantasy and jot down ideas. I miss meals and get up early, just to spend time with a song. I grow mesmerized as I repeat the lyrics like a robot. I say them with an Italian accent and a French accent and a German accent. I sing them as quickly as I can…and…as…slowly…as...I…can…I sing them sadly if they are happy; frightened if they are soothing; silly if they are sexy and sexy if they are silly. I sing them every way I can imagine, and then I find 15 more ways to do it.
Did I mention that Cabaret Fever leads to debilitating related conditions? I’ve also become a Cabaret Geekess, stopping traffic as I slow before a SALE sign at a boutique I could never afford, but which features in its window an iridescent, non-patterned, low cut, ¾ length-sleeved jacket with crystal (not rhinestone!) buttons in a color that won’t clash with my hair, my nails or my 15 year old see-through trousers…and…there are shoes that sparkle to match!
I’ve also become a Cabaret Droness, droning on at all hours of the day and night about song selections and music trivia with people who would really prefer I shut up and come to bed, but for whom divorce is too expensive an alternative.
Pray for me…there’s gotta be something better than this…Wait! Isn’t that Coleman & Fields? Would it work with When in Rome? Mamma mia!
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