Kate Dimbleby performed The Dory Previn Story at the Crazy Coqs, London.
Right at the start of her set at this stylish, somewhat bijou art deco venue in the heart of bustling Piccadilly, Kate Dimbleby asked a small but clearly enthused audience: “How many of you had even heard of Dory Previn before you came tonight?” Just a couple of slightly reluctant hands showed, but in a sense that gave the evening more gravitas, a touch of mystery and certainly a feeling of not knowing exactly what you were in for – and that can’t be bad.
All too often, such ‘tributes’ tread old ground, and re-hash familiar material by very familiar performers. That’s definitely not an accusation that can be levelled at singer/songwriter Dimbleby (of the broadcasting dynasty) who clearly likes taking a creative gamble, and for the most part here, that pays off.
Accompanied by pianist Naadia Sheriff, both musically and verbally, Previn’s personal and professional life and strife is conveyed through song, captivating anecdotes and supporting visuals. If a good picture is worth a thousand words, it’s certainly worth a few lyrics too.
Described as the queen of confessional songwriters, Dory Previn (born Dorothy Veronica), given this intriguing and well measured homage, appears impossible to pigeon-hole, a creative enigma whose lyrics radiated love and affection one minute; despair, solitude and scarcely concealed bitterness the next.
Of course, the big clue to a main chunk of her life and creative inspiration is her surname, being married to Andre Previn with whom she collaborated on numerous projects, including writing the songs for 1967 film Valley of the Dolls. When he left her for the much younger (and already pregnant by him) Mia Farrow, who had been a regular visitor to their marital home, the fall-out was devastating.
Diagnosed earlier as schizophrenic, seemingly on the very verge of madness at times, Previn’s anarchic life and career is a hard one to nail on stage, and though Dimbleby understandably lacks the kind of chaotic, edgy charisma to replicate her personality completely, this show deftly gets under the lyricist, singer-songwriter and poet’s skin.
Dimbleby’s performance, both as main narrator and chanteuse is a well-judged one, knowing when to just let the music move the story on and never overdoing the dialogue. She revels in singing the likes of ‘Mythical Kings and Iguanas’, ‘I Ain’t His Child’ and especially the mischief making ‘Did Jesus Have A Baby Sister’ which at one performance apparently sparked a mass walk out from highly affronted nuns in the audience. Best of all is perhaps her ‘Lemon Haired Ladies’, a musical diatribe which warns of the dangers posed by peroxided predatory (and younger) women.
Dory Previn died back in 2012, leaving a musical legacy that though respected is still largely left on the musical shelf by modern artists. That Dimbleby has the creative courage, feels the urge, and has the confidence to lay bare Previn’s uneven yet inspired and highly personal musical legacy to today’s audience is much to her credit.
For those that had never heard of Previn before, and also for those that have, she gets the balance just about perfect – for most present her name was a blank canvas skilfully filled in. Maybe, it’s that like Previn she’s just determined blondes don’t have all the fun. I have a feeling they would have got on.
The Dory Previn Story is written by Amy Rosenthal and directed by: Cal McCrystal.
Derek Smith
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