Q: What good is sitting alone in your room? A: Aw, you know.

Of course, there's cabaret and there's cabaret.  At its best, there's a marvelous fusion of artistry and intimacy unlike any other form of entertainment. Cabaret is unique because, no matter the level of talent, there must be presence in that lone individual on the stage.  This, Ruth Carlin delivers in her "A Light in the Window"show, and the most extraordinary aspect of it is how humble the presence is. There is assuredly a light here, and the appeal resides in just how softly comforting it is.

Carlin doesn't open with banter and the realization comes, a song or two later, that this isn't strategy; it's likely nerves. But it works. It draws you in, and Carlin's modest alto never runs the danger of pushing you away. But with that modesty, song selection can become critical. Several choices in this unabashed homage to Judy Collins are questionable; Kurt Weill's "Pirate Jenny" demands a theatricality not in keeping with Ms. Carlin's style, and "Send in the Clowns" may be officially exhausted of interpretive possibilities.

Yet there are also very nice things indeed. As in Joni Mitchell's "Chelsea Morning," which takes on a wonderful everyman quality when dropped from the well-known soprano register. Or Cohen's "Suzanne," which Carlin invests with wariness; this Suzanne is a bit scary, and it's just right. Or Judy Collins's own "The Blizzard," reinforcing Carlin's forte as perhaps residing in narrative, or the lyrical woes of "People Like Us." Throughout all, the lady is supported with genteel grace by Dick Sarpola on bass, John Redsecker on drums, and the nearly too-boyish Paul Greenwood, Carlin's musical director and seeming best chum, on piano.

Thus, Ruth Carlin at the Laurie Beechman Theater, decorously beneath the West Bank Cafe. If it isn't a blinding light, it is awfully satisfying as a cozy lamp in a window.

A clip of Ruth Carlin from the reviewed performance: