Thanks to Simon Cowell and to the scornful fellow's frequently equating "cabaret" with "old-fashioned," millions of televiewers have no idea that cabaret can be as fresh a form of entertainment as any others available to the hungry public.

Sheera Ben-David is, consciously or unconsciously, hewing closely to the small-room conventions that 1920s Germans called "kabarett." A dramatic mezzo, she's drawn to less well-known songs that plumb the darker emotional depths.

Andrea Marcovicci and Bebe Neuwirth represent those who say that what's important for performers appearing in intimate rooms is not that the voice be considered first and foremost but that appreciation of a lyric is equally as important as vocal reproduction and projection.

As one of Broadway's absolute best singing actors, Buckley is used to having previews to work out what she's doing before tough-minded commentators descend. Unfortunately, that's not the cabaret case.

What she wants the world to understand is that she did have a happy childhood. She isn't the hard-bitten survivor her publicized past might suggest.

If Michael Feinstein's American Songbook accomplishes anything -- it indisputably does -- it's that his commitment to the task of perpetuating the music is at least equal to his devotion to performing.

Alan Cumming lets it be known through a puckish yet no-uncertain-terms manner that he's not the type to modulate his behavior for anyone.