Broadways Greatest at 54 Below!
There’s something deliciously old-school about a show called “54 Sings Broadway’s Greatest Hits.” It doesn’t pretend to reinvent the wheel. It doesn’t wink at you with irony. It simply walks into the room and says: here are songs that have survived decades of taste shifts, trends, and theater arguments, and tonight we’re going to remind you why they lasted. And at 54 Below, that mission lands with particular force because the room itself is built for this kind of communion. You’re close enough to see breath control. You’re close enough to catch the tiny facial choices a performer makes on a held note. You’re close enough to feel the crowd lean forward when a lyric lands.
Volume #177, performed Saturday, January 24, 2026, was hosted, produced, directed, and written by Scott Siegel, with Mark T Evans at the piano as musical director, plus special guest violinist Sarah Langford adding that extra ribbon of color you don’t always get in a standard cabaret lineup. This installment wasn’t trying to be precious. It was trying to be satisfying. And it absolutely was. What made the night work, as the best cabarets do, was the balance of structure and spontaneity. A “greatest hits” program can collapse into a museum exhibit if the choices don’t speak to each other. But Siegel knows how to shape an evening. The running order moved like a playlist curated by someone who understands not just Broadway history, but Broadway appetite: start with elegance, build into personality, raise the emotional stakes, then end with catharsis.
A classy opener that set the bar at 54 Below
The night began with “Someone to Watch Over Me,” sung by Marina Jurica, and it was a savvy choice. There are songs you open with to get applause, and songs you open with to get silence. This is the second kind. Gershwin doesn’t need help being charming, but it does require taste. You can’t bully it. You can’t oversell it. Jurica approached it with a calm confidence that immediately told the room: we’re here to sing, not to scream our way through a nostalgia set. She returned later with “Till There Was You,” and that pairing mattered. It gave her a mini-arc across the night: from intimate yearning to gentle romantic glow. “Till There Was You” is often dismissed as “pretty,” but “pretty” is not a small thing when it’s done with control. It’s also the kind of number that benefits from a room like 54 Below because the softness reads as intentional instead of tentative.
Early in the program, William Michals delivered “Song of the Vagabonds,” bringing a dash of classic operetta swagger to a lineup that otherwise leaned heavily on the modern canon. This number demands presence. It’s a song that has to feel like a man stepping into a spotlight and saying, “Yes, I belong here.” Michals has the kind of voice that can sit comfortably in that tradition, the type that doesn’t apologize for being big. And in a cabaret context, that size becomes thrilling because you’re not hearing it filtered through a theater’s distance. You’re hearing it right there, human scale, but still heroic. Michals later returned with “Javert’s Suicide,” a wild move in a “greatest hits” lineup and exactly why this particular concert series stays interesting after 177 volumes. That’s not a crowd-pleaser in the conventional sense. It’s psychologically tense, morally knotted, and dramatically relentless. But that’s the point: “greatest hits” isn’t just the songs you hum on the way out. Sometimes it’s the song that reminds you Broadway can go dark and still be musical.
Kendra Foster McBride brought two standout selections that showcased range and emotional intelligence: “People” and “There Are Worse Things I Could Do.” “People” is a trap song. Everyone knows it. Everyone has an idea of what it should sound like. The challenge is making it feel like you mean it right now, not like you’re borrowing someone else’s iconic moment. McBride’s performance had a grounded quality that avoided the “big star imitation” pitfall. It felt less like trying to win the song and more like trying to confess something through it. Then she pivoted into “There Are Worse Things I Could Do,” which is one of those numbers that can become either a campy showcase or a genuinely vulnerable statement depending on who’s holding it. In a cabaret setting, it’s a litmus test: do you understand subtext, or are you just serving attitude? McBride served both, but the real win was that it didn’t feel like a defensive act.
Ben Jones took on “I’ve Grown Accustomed to Her Face” and later “Bring Him Home.” That’s a double assignment of iconic male balladry, the kind that can collapse into generic “nice singing” if the performer doesn’t make clear choices. What makes those selections smart for Jones is that they require different kinds of sincerity. “Accustomed” is conversational, almost reluctant in its tenderness. “Bring Him Home” is a prayer. If you sing both with the same emotional temperature, you’ve missed the point. The best cabaret performances aren’t about volume; they’re about intention. Jones’ bookending with those two numbers gave the night a feeling of classic Broadway lineage, the kind of material that reminds you why we still treat these songs as rites of passage.
Contemporary emotion and big modern belts
The middle of the program is where Siegel’s running order got clever, because he leaned into contemporary Broadway intensity without letting it swallow the whole evening.
Christopher Brian offered “The Only Home I Know” and “What More Can I Say?” and those choices gave the program a more contemporary, confessional edge. In a greatest-hits parade, these songs function like palate cleansers: they reset the room’s emotional posture. They also highlight a key truth about Broadway “hits” now. The definition has expanded. It’s not just standards anymore. It’s also these emotionally specific, character-driven pieces that have found audiences because they sound like the inside of a person’s head.
Tyler McCall went for the jugular with “Why, God, Why?” and then “Defying Gravity.” That is a high-stakes pairing because it invites comparison to some of the most famous performances in the genre. But the best cabaret artists understand that the trick isn’t to outdo the original; it’s to claim the song as an actor in the room. “Defying Gravity” is especially tricky in cabaret because it’s engineered for a theatrical build, with orchestration and staging contributing to the emotional lift. When it’s just voice and piano, the performer has to generate the arc entirely from within. McCall’s inclusion of it signaled confidence, and the audience response in a show like this is always telling: people don’t just clap for the high note, they clap for the permission to feel something huge in a small room.
Ryan Knowles brought in “Anthem” and “Unchained Melody.” “Anthem” is one of those songs that can sound like a generic inspirational number if it’s not anchored in meaning. But when it’s sung with conviction, it hits like a mission statement. “Unchained Melody,” while not a Broadway standard in the strictest sense, has become a cultural standard, and its inclusion was smart because it widened the night’s emotional vocabulary without breaking the “greatest hits” promise. It’s a song that lives in collective memory, and hearing it in a cabaret room can feel like suddenly remembering your own past.
A cabaret lives or dies on its musical director. Mark T Evans didn’t just play the notes. He shaped the evening. A strong cabaret pianist is part conductor, part scene partner, part safety net, and part instigator. The best ones anticipate the singer’s timing and breathe with them. That’s what makes a performance feel effortless even when it’s technically demanding. And the presence of Sarah Langford on violin was a genuine upgrade, not a novelty. A violin in a room like 54 Below adds sheen, yes, but it also adds intimacy. It can underline a lyric without overpowering it. It can make an ending feel like a ribbon tied neatly, rather than a hard stop. Not every number needs it, but when used well across a set, it makes the night feel richer.
The overall takeaway of this 54 Below experience
What I loved about 54 Sings Broadway’s Greatest Hits is that it didn’t treat “hits” as shorthand for “easy.” The lineup proved that beloved songs are beloved because they survive close listening. When you take away the spectacle, what’s left is craft: melody, lyric, character, and the performer’s ability to make you believe it. Scott Siegel’s hosting and shaping of the night kept the room moving, warm, and theatrical without being overly formal. You walked away with that specific cabaret satisfaction: the feeling that Broadway history isn’t a museum, it’s a living playlist, and tonight you got to hear it sung by artists who understand why these songs matter.
If you want a night where the room hums with recognition, where the audience reacts like they’re sharing secrets with strangers, and where the “greatest hits” concept actually has teeth, 54 Below delivered. It wasn’t just a parade of familiar tunes. It was a reminder: the classics endure when performers make them personal.
For more information about 54 Below, check out their official site! Have you been to this iconic New York City establishment before? Let us know your thoughts @bsb.insider on social media!
A Non-Artist’s Review of the Museum of Arts and Design
