M: I don’t know. I guess—whatever it means to you. How our feelings about art were formed.
N: It’s pretty city mouse and country mouse. Or Beauty and the Beast. Mine I’ve done some writing about.
(Barking in the background) Wait—our recordist is having some trouble. Hang on. Are the levels OK?
M: Our engineer! She has such a big smile on her face.
N: (Laughs) I feel like I grew up without a sense of art (Laughs again) despite playing music in band and jazz band, and performing as an actor in school. Those are the main artistic moments in my life. It wasn’t until I got to college and met my Defiant Theatre friends—that was when I feel I was really awakened to a true comprehension of art. Up until that point, I didn’t know what my taste was, in a sense. Or I hadn’t discovered my taste. And I feel like you have always had a much clearer sense of good art. I’ve always relied on others. I know what I love, but I never would have discovered Egon Schiele, for example, if you hadn’t shown him to me, and I realized, “Oh, that’s the best one.”
(Both laugh)
M: My mom had a flair for interior design. She enjoyed that, and she was good at it. It was interesting to me that she would move heavy pieces of furniture around by herself, like she was moved by the spirit to create, which is something that I now have taken to doing in my adult life . . . moving couches around at two in the morning.
Part of her decorating scheme would always include art. My mom liked bright colors and cheery themes, which is something I seem to have inherited, but in a more modern way.
(Barking)
M: Listen! No barking. We’re writing a book. Are you?
I remembered, after telling the tragic love story of Pedro and me, tearfully torn asunder in the parking lot of the art gallery in Santa Fe, that my father had a penchant for fine art and picked a couple of the pieces in our house.
But I think this chapter is not only about art you can hang on your wall or a sculpture you can put in your garden, but about art in the larger sense of creativity and the forms it can take. However, I will say that when I was about eight or nine, my parents subscribed to Time magazine, and they had done a story on Yoko Ono. I’m sure it was in black and white—that’s how I remember it anyway—and it really appealed to me. She was the first woman who was a conceptual artist of note, and her art appealed to my young brain because it was simple, and vivid in its simplicity.
That started me on a train of young thought about art. And then I studied art history in college, even though I only went to college for two years.
N: Oh, so . . .
M: I do not have a bachelor of the arts.
N: OK, I’ll jump back in here. (Clears throat)
M: I’m a college dropout.
N: Picasso was an art—
M: An art person.
N: They call them artists.
M: Wow, I’m really out of my depth here.
* * *
—
M: On to music. Dad, sing something.
N: Sing something? (Singing) “I’d rather have a paper doll that I could call my own, a doll that other fellows cannot steal . . .”
M: (Claps) Beautiful. That was a nice choice. What made you think of that one?
N: I didn’t really think about it. That’s just what came out.
M: You’d rather have a paper doll? That’s what you’re trying to tell me?
N: (Laughs) No, it’s just my ongoing Mills Brothers channel. Just streaming, beneath the surface.
M: I love the Mills Brothers so much.
N: That’s a sad song about a lonely guy.
M: Yeah. You must have it pretty tough over there, three inches away from me in the bed, with Clover nestled up next to you. It must be hard to stave off the loneliness.
N: It’s interesting—music is a huge part of our lives, both separately and together, and always has been, in our own individual ways. But very rarely do we play music around the house together, or in the car. It’s a real treat to say, “Hey, let’s listen to this music.”
M: I feel like I’m listening to music constantly, but it’s not because I’m necessarily at my leisure. A lot of time it’s work-related, like when I’m archiving music for Nancy And Beth purposes. I’m also cleaning out my iTunes, which I started seventeen months ago—PS, I am still not done. But I will say that since we’ve had a record player, I’ve been listening to a lot more music for recreational purposes. I definitely don’t like digital the way I like analog. I think that’s been a lot of the problem with listening for pleasure in recent years.
N: Me, too. I agree. You’ve been a singer and a professional musician ever since you were a kid doing musicals. That was your big break—singing in the chapel in your school. That’s how you got discovered by the priests.
M: Episcopalian—so whatever they’re called . . .
N: I used to religiously listen to music in the car.
M: Yeah, me, too! Morning Becomes Eclectic when Chris Douridas was doing it. Pre–cell phones.
N: Very specifically—once you could plug an iPod into your car, I’d listen to NPR in the morning, but then through my afternoon commuting, I’d listen to all my favorite bands.
But what I’m driving at—it used to be a huge thing. But my life had so much more of a singular focus. I just had to get to the shop, and I was making something at the shop, and maybe I had an audition or something. And that’s it. That was as complicated as my life was.
And now I can’t always afford the escapism, the brain space. I need that time in the car now. It’s become very valuable time for phone calls. But also listening to stuff I need to listen to, whether it’s as simple as the news or music for some project, especially since I’ve started performing songs. I much more rarely now throw on a Neil Young record or something.
M: I do still listen to music in my car, especially if I’m with Stephanie. Recently, we blasted Nancy And Beth with the windows down and were singing along in harmony. Some people on the sidewalk started dancing, and we were all connected for a second. It was nice. I love that emotional place that music can take you to.
N: You’ve talked a lot about how influenced you are by many different kinds of music. To me, it’s part of us—part of the fact that we met and had an attraction, first as friends, and then as a little more, and hopefully someday as lovers.
M: Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
N: (Quietly) Okay . . . My whole theater career was fueled by the music of Tom Waits and, a second tier, the music of Brecht/Weill, theatrical oom-pah-pah music. My theater company in Chicago—we used as much Tom Waits as we could. And I was obsessed with his body of work, and that was one of the first things that passed between us as currency. You had just recorded your first record with Supreme Music Program, your first band . . .
M: Well, one of the first things that happened—when we were backstage at the Evidence Room—is that I sang “In the Gloaming” into your ear. And that was a big turning point.
Then I played “Ruby’s Arms” for you in the car. And that was pretty much the end for you.
N: That was it. Cupid had put away his arrow and pulled out a nuclear missile.
(Both laugh)
M: “Ruby’s Arms” is a Tom Waits song I had recorded with my former band, Supreme Music Program. And I think that record was just coming out, or had just come out. He said, “I like Tom Waits,” and I said, “Really?”
N: “Check this out, big boy.”
M: And I played it for him. There happens to be a lot of music in our lives professionally. I had done a couple of musicals on Broadway before I met Nick, but since we’ve been together, in 2008, I did another one, Young Frankenstein. And Nick started playing guitar a few years ago—it’s been a long time now since you started playing.
N: Yeah.
M: Kind of taught himself, took a f
ew lessons here and there . . . pretty much self-taught. And now he’s really good. Then he started doing what became American Ham, which began as Nick wandering out onto the stage at Largo with no prepared material whatsoever, which I could never do. I’d have to be carted away in a bag.
But it eventually became American Ham, and it had a few songs in it. And now his newer show, Full Bush, has a ton of songs. I finally got to see Full Bush a couple of times recently, and the songs are great, and his voice has gotten so much stronger. Like anything else, you have to practice.
N: It’s a muscle.
M: Yeah, it turns out it involves muscles that need to be in shape. You just need to do it. I told Nick, “Wait until I leave the house, or get in your car—someplace that’s private. And just, you know, sing out, Louise.”
N: You have been a great coach. I can hear that I’m gradually improving. And I love, at age forty-eight, that I can still keep getting better at something like that. I am tickled pink that audiences will let me perform songs and not get up and leave, by and large. And so the notion that I can continue to do a better job entertaining them with music juices me. It makes me thoroughly chuffed, as Colin Farrell would say.
M: In our Summer of 69: No Apostrophe show we sing some little plinky-plunky songs. It’s more like comedy singing, though . . .
N: Or Nick singing.
M: C’mon, guy.
N: But if we’re talking about music—you always downplay that anyone knows you sing, but that’s been a major part of your fantastic career. You’re known among lovers of Broadway as one of the greats.
M: Amongst Broadway people, yes. But when it comes to selling a ticket for a band I’m in, that’s when everything comes to a screeching halt. Because, in large part, people know me as Karen from Will & Grace, and that’s it.
N: What’s this band called?
M: This band is called Nancy And Beth.
N: And which one are you?
M: Nice try.
N: They’ll never tell which one is Nancy and which one is Beth. Only Megan and Stephanie and I know. And we’ll never tell.
M: Nick doesn’t know.
N: We even like to put it out there that I don’t even know. Because it’s so secret.
M: Because he doesn’t know.
N: So let’s just say that I don’t know.
M: That’s a good way to put it.
N: Do you have a website?
M: Why, it’s NancyAndBeth.com.
N: Nice. And you can see the record art—and do you have a music video?
M: We have three music videos that I directed, soon to be four. My first time directing. We did a video for the song “Please Mr. Jailer,” and then we did one for the Gucci Mane song “I Don’t Love Her.” For that one I shot the whole thing on my phone in the Snapchat app. There’s another video for Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” that’s very different in feel. And last week we shot a new video series called “Getting in Shape with Nancy And Beth,” where we teach you the choreography to five of our songs, then you can dance along with us and get a slammin’ bod. I love it. I really enjoy directing.
N: It’s very exciting. Those videos are so dope.
Before we finish with music, I just want to say that I’m very grateful—I love music, and I love the way it makes me feel. In so much of my life, and in so many instances, I thought, “I wish I could play music for people.” I used to love playing the saxophone, and I was pretty good at it. I loved playing jazz and big band music. I don’t expect I’ll ever play anything but funny stuff. And I like even trying that, in a way that sounds as good as possible. But I feel like, for myself, I’m just grateful. Music has been such a big part of my life. It was part of me recognizing how I immediately treasured you. When you first played me that Tom Waits song you did, it was “This is over. Game over.” But also, it ended up with the whole Jeff Tweedy side of things. Wilco is one of my favorite bands ever, and somehow I ended up being creatively involved with Jeff, even though I’m not that good at music. For better or worse, he values me for what I bring to the table. I’m grateful for the lesson in that. No one will ever say to me, “Hey, we’re having a big show, would you come play some of those crazy licks on your guitar that are so good?” and that’s okay.
M: You’re great!
N: Well, thank you. I’ll lay off that. I’m improving. I’m glad I’m good enough to entertain an audience. But just in general, the music you brought into my life—I’ve learned so much from your knowledge of it. I never really knew a lot of George Jones, for example. And I knew and loved some Randy Newman, but just a tiny fraction of what you opened me up to. And as we travel about this world, performing in all kinds of different mediums, I’m just really grateful that music is one of them.
M: It is such a powerful thing. We recently got to meet Willie Nelson, which was HUGE for me, because I had loved him since junior high. And we got to meet Bonnie Raitt. She was a really, really big part of my high school years. I learned a lot about singing listening to her records. She was top three, one of the biggest influences on me as a singer.
N: That’s exactly what I’m talking about. We got invited by the venerated program Austin City Limits. They have started doing a Hall of Fame induction every year, and they asked the two of us to host it. And that still makes no fucking sense to me. How did we get to do that? And at the event was Willie, and Bonnie Raitt, and Kris Kristofferson . . .
M: They were inducting Bonnie, and Kris Kristofferson, and B. B. King, posthumously.
N: It was overwhelming. Mavis Staples, Taj Mahal, Billy Gibbons from ZZ Top . . .
M: It was the craziest night we’ve ever— That tops pretty much everything we’ve ever . . . Gary Clark Jr. and Rodney Crowell.
We were in an altered state after that. And it was so great, because we were in our dressing room, and we were kind of just staring at each other like we had done mushrooms or something. And the door bursts open, and it’s Stephanie, my Nancy And Beth partner, and her boyfriend, Alejandro, who is a great musician who goes by the name Shakey Graves, and they burst in, in the same state of complete, ecstatic disbelief and over-the-top . . . just in a state of bliss. Basically rapture.
It was great, perfect to have another couple to deconstruct it with, to prove that it really happened. (Laughs) It was unbelievable. And we never saw the actual TV special. They edited this three-hour live show down to an hour somehow, and we never even saw it. But I don’t know how they could have captured everything that happened that night.
N: We already told the story of Ray Charles at the Correspondents’ Dinner. With Supreme Music Program, I saw you guys play at Jazz at Lincoln Center. You also performed there with Elaine Stritch, who you sang with.
M: Yes, my idol. That was the same night, the night with Supreme Music Program. Elaine came out and we did this great duet that she had just done with Barbara Cook in London. Elaine was such a freaking genius . . .
N: And I saw you play at the Kennedy Center at a new jazz thing they had going . . .
M: Yeah.
N: I’ve sat and watched an audience completely in your thrall, and I was a part of the audience. I felt like I was in the presence of a goddess so many times over the years.
M: Who knows, maybe someday people will discover the records I did with Supreme Music Program or some of the Broadway soundtrack albums I’ve done.
N: Sophisticated. Bitchin’.
M: Nancy And Beth isn’t necessarily a full-on singer’s showcase type of thing, but I think it’s better in many ways because it’s entertaining, and it feels alive.
N: But that’s the thing. You can sing in as many ways as you are a character actor. Because you can sing these dumb, funny songs with me, and then you step it up to these pro songs, and then there’s a touch of novelty with Nancy And Beth. Then you can switch over to a completely silent, packed theater and sing a vocal to
The Swan or sing “Annie Laurie” or some incredible classical piece, and just knock our socks off. You just kind of run the gamut.
M: There are all different kinds of singing. The higher-end stuff—I’m glad I got that recorded. There were a couple of concerts I did, like at the Disney Concert Hall, or doing Adelaide in Guys and Dolls with Nathan Lane at Carnegie Hall. But mostly through Supreme Music Program. Broadway’s a different thing, but that’s all recorded, too. So I’m glad I’ve been able to record stuff. But at the same time music is a very private thing for me. Sometimes I’ll sing just to work through some emotions. That was a big thing for me my whole life, really. I still do that when I’m alone. I don’t do it when Nick is in the next room. (Laughs) But if I’m upset about something, I’ll sing sad songs, and that seems to work those emotions out. And the reverse is true with happier songs.
N: I didn’t really know that. I do the same thing, only I do it with passing gas.
M: I was going to say the exact same thing . . . the symphonies I’ve been privy to . . .
N: When I’m feeling a little down, I release some ill humors.
M: He doesn’t wait until I’m gone. That’s the salient difference.
N: I’m not as private. I’m more of a family man.
M: He doesn’t have anything to hide. He’s not afraid to show his emotions.
N: One slight tangent. Casting about for anything else . . . So far I’ve only made ukuleles, but making something that I can then play music on, and looking forward to making more instruments—I’m very grateful for how these things dovetail together. If I ever lose my dashing good looks, I can find solace in making beautiful guitars.
M: I wish we had a little recording studio in our house . . . just a little mini one.
N: Let’s see how this book sells.
M: Let’s see how Will & Grace goes. Third season, in the bag! (Both laugh) We’ll build a recording studio in the backyard. Just a small one. Just eight tracks. Sixteen tracks.
N: Twenty-four. Fuck it.
The Greatest Love Story Ever Told Page 12