Notorious C.H.O. : Live at Carnegie Hall

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Music reviews of Notorious C.H.O. : Live at Carnegie Hall

Music Review: Has it's moments, but not her best at all.
Rating: 3 Stars

That Cho mostly fails to do this on this cd is disappointing. I've been a fan of hers since I'd see her on sporadic tv stand-up performances (which I manically tried to videotape), and I loved her last two recorded performances. But here, what made those last outings so extraordinary is missing, for the most part: like talking about sexual hangups or experiences, good or bad, and using them as a hilarious vehicle to recognise and spread the vulnerabilty or feelings of ridiculousness around a bit. Jumping into racist stereotypes or experiences of racism and subverting them to reveal the racist's stupidy and his victim's strength, humanity, wit. Blabbing your mom's surreal ridiculousness long enough to make sure her terminal sweetness and intelligence are revealed to the listener. And all the while, making us hold our twisted, aching belly with one hand and covering our face with the other to hide the snot that unstoppable laughter is causing to spew forth from us. And making us pray we don't pee, of course. Margaret Cho is a pro at this. She does it here, a little. The "Gay Daddy" story is a gem, the story of our super-hungry diet fiend put me in the aforementioned state, and her brief imitation of her two departed draq queen best friends from high school and her story of her and her brother's youthful nutrition displays her mix of hilarity and subversive sympathy. But--and it *kills* me to say this--the bulk of the cd sounds like someone trying to "do" Margaret Cho and failing, because they don't get what makes her special. It honestly sounds like she's not trying all that hard, as if she knows the "big event" (The Carnegie performance) and a room packed with fawning homosexuals (absolutely no offense meant--at least not for the "homosexual" part)--it's as if she knew that these two things cinched the night as greatly exciting. Were people laughing and applauding at her performance, or the fact she's there, and so are they? Cho gets to the first part of her genius--she goes right for those things we don't like to, or try not to talk about, and certainly don't talk of earnestly. But then she drops the second, best, part--the hilarious sympathy and complexity that brings us together (to sound corny) instead of making one or another of us the butt of the joke. It made me kind of sad to think she went on autopilot, and the audience didn't seem to notice a difference, or care. Margaret Cho is still one of my favourite comedians, but this is not her best. I'd direct anybody who feels like me about this one to Marga Gomez's Hung Like a Fly, if they haven't already heard it.

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