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PHOTO: Joe Putrock |
Idle
Hands
Lawmakers
make asses of themselves in public—this time, for charity
By
John Brodeur
The
room is stocked full with dapper dudes with button-down collars
and silk ties, pressed suits, dark shoes and lots of hair
gel, all milling about and patting each other on the back
as they pass. Among or alongside them are women who are either
trying to look engaged or downing enough red wine to get to
a point where that’s not so difficult. This could be North
Pearl Street on any night of the week.
But tonight’s is not the regular pick-up crowd. Members of
the State Assembly have assembled tonight (Tuesday, May 29)
on the third floor of Jillian’s nightclub in downtown Albany
for a decidedly noncurricular activity: to sing! The event,
a contest modeled after American Idol (and nicknamed
Legislative Idol), pits 12 men and women not exactly known
for their vocal prowess against one another in a singing contest—all
in the name of charity. (Proceeds benefit the Alzheimer’s
Association of Northeastern NY and Justice for Children International,
a Connecticut-based group working to combat child sex trafficking.)
This is a strange, fabricated universe where Sanjaya and Joe
Bruno share punchlines. Granted, as a colleague of mine points
out, “75 percent of these people don’t even want to be here.”
Due to the Assembly’s anti-fraternization policy, Legislative
interns aren’t allowed to attend. My colleague points to several
men lugging their suitcases and says, “This is keeping them
from going home.”
But staging this event at a nightclub was the right idea.
While the crowd hovers close to the bar in the rear of the
room for the early part in the evening, by halfway through
the show they’ve gotten lubricated enough to brave the areas
on either side of the “stage”—which is, by the way, little
more than a band set up at one end of a dance floor, with
a rented (and crackling) P.A. and no stage lighting, save
for a single utility light illuminating the performers from
the floor.
Of course this brings out the bastard in some—one ringing
endorsement went something like, “I want my 10 dollars back!
You suck!”—but, for the most part, both patrons and performers
are good sports.
Backed by the Dan Wray Band, the legislators take to the stage,
one by one (mostly). Bill Parment (D-North Harmony) gamely
renders “Jambalaya.” Tim Gordon (D-Bethlehem) and Ellen Young
(D-Flushing) harmonize—sort of—on “You Are My Sunshine.” Bill
Scarborough (D-Jamaica) takes a stab at “My Girl,” snapping
his fingers and showing off a creamy falsetto (even when singing
the wrong note). Joe Saladino (R-Massapequa) smiles his way
through “Shower the People” with a shaky vibrato and an oversize
caricature of a voice that does not in the least resemble
that of the song’s author, James Taylor.
Meanwhile, the judges—Assembly Sergeant Wayne Jackson (playing
the “role” of Randy Jackson), Marilee King of Zap Legislative
Courier Service (as Paula Abdul), and intellectual-property
lawyer (and Metroland columnist/critic) Paul Rapp (as
Simon Cowell), take it all in from a table facing the performers.
While the judges’ commitment to the assigned roles wanes early,
Jackson does begin a few of his comments with the requisite
“Yo dawg” and Rapp offers a few Cowell-esque quips. When Jim
Conte (R-Huntington Station)—a “family values” Republican,
mind you—pulls the stunt of accompanying himself on acoustic
guitar for a rendition of “Walk on the Wild Side,” Rapp comments,
“You evoked Lou Reed—although I’m not sure why anyone would
want to do that.”
The evening’s M.C., Senator Joe Robach (R-Greece), introduces
“The Legend” Joe Lentol (D-North Brooklyn), who tackles “The
Impossible Dream” with Spitzer-like authority. His meter is
all over the place at first, but as the players settle in
and begin to follow him, it turns into one of the evening’s
more enjoyable performances. He pushes his baritone up to
the high note that leads into the song’s chorus and the crowd
goes wild. Lentol’s actually got a voice on him. And the audience
is behind him all the way, chanting “Joe-y! Joe-y!” when his
performance concludes.
State Sen. John Flanagan (R, C-East Northport) asks the audience
to back him up on a groan-inducing rendition of “You Light
Up My Life,” and boy does he need it: He doesn’t locate the
melody until halfway through the song. Robach remarks, “I
felt like Chuck Barris of The Gong Show,” while Jackson,
who Robach affectionately refers to as “chocolate thunder”
at one point, remarks “Sanjaya, look out!”
Annette Robinson (D-Brooklyn), nervous about her voice, waves
off the band and decides to go at “I Believe” a cappella.
She actually sports one of the best instruments of the night,
but the crowd, increasingly noisy, talks right through it.
“Gorgeous” George Latimer (D-Westchester), takes on “Everybody
Loves Somebody” from atop a barstool, with highball glass
in hand, in a passable Dean Martin impression.
And then the show-stopper, literally: the “Staten Island Six”—Michael
Cusick (D-Mid Island), Janele Hyer-Spencer (D-Staten Island/Brooklyn),
Lou Tobacco (R-Staten Island), Matthew Titone (D-North Shore),
and State Senators Diane Savino (D-Staten Island/Brooklyn)
and Andrew Lanza (R-Staten Island)—shuffle and warble their
way through the Partridge Family’s “I Think I Love You,” ruffly
shirts and all. It is plainly awful, but the assembly (the
audience, that is), sensing closure, is loud and enthusiastic.
After what seems like hours (less than two, actually), Lentol
faces off with the Staten Island contingent for the top honors,
and wins (deservedly). All in the name of charity. Because
if it were in the name of music . . . well, let’s just be
thankful it’s not.
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