Throughout her long acting and singing career, Sally Kellerman has been known for her offbeat qualities. She started working in movies and television in the late 1950s and early 1960s, but her devil-may-care breeziness served her especially well in the "New Hollywood" of the 1970s, a time when endearing eccentrics could flourish, especially when they were gangly and gorgeous. After her Oscar-nominated performance as Major Margaret "Hot Lips" O'Houlihan in Robert Altman's 1970 film MASH, she was famous.

Maybe it was too heavy a reliance on her brand of free-spiritedness that led her astray in her recent appearance at Iridium. The first of the evening's two shows began with her missing her entrance completely, only to be re-introduced over the sound system a few minutes later. Perhaps something beyond her control had caused this blip, but when she finally reached the stage, she seemed distracted. She repeatedly forgot lyrics, and she vamped uneasily through her improvised between-song remarks. Occasionally she was prompted by her pianist and musical director Ed Martel ("Tell them about the shower scene from MASH."). I worried about whether she would make it through the set—but she soldiered on. Blessedly, her audience was respectful, patient, and supportive.

Again, some of this behavior may have been calculated Kellerman wackiness that didn't "land." There were times when a kind of cheeky wit shone through—humor that might have been disarming had she been securely in the driver's seat. At one point, for instance, she borrowed a customer's dinner napkin to use as a handkerchief. At another, she amusingly acknowledged just how un-swimmingly things were going. Before launching into "If I Could" (Ken Hirsch, Ron Miller, Marti Sharron), she remarked in perfect deadpan, "You probably know this song. And I hope I do."

As for the singing itself, it was often quite appealing in a Tom-Waits-forgot-to-gargle sort of way. Her vocals were studded with rasps, cracks and mushy sibilants that suggested that Kellerman has packed a lot of living under the belt of her skinny jeans. This crusty vocal quality worked well for many of the titles on her set list—particularly pop-rock numbers with a bluesy feel and jaded or hardboiled sentiments. A prime example was her turn on Sonny Burke and Paul Francis Webster's "Black Coffee," which she'd previously sung in the 1989 film Limit Up. She rocked out on other numbers—most notably, "Rockin' Pneumonia and the Boogie Woogie Flu" (Huey Smith, J. Vincent). And, late in the show, she turned to Francesca Blumenthal's ballad "The Lies of Handsome Men," which she delivered with aching tenderness.

Most everything she sang, though, was infused with her particular brand of laid-back coolness. This reached its quintessence with her rendition of the ultimate anthem for the disappointed and ennui-stricken, Leiber and Stoller's "Is That All There Is?" When she performed the familiar spoken portions of this number, her instincts as an actor kicked in, and she drew the audience into the song's spiritually disillusioned (but not quite defeated) point of view. Her clarity when delivering the song's mini-monologues reminded me why TV merchants of cars and salad dressing have utilized her distinctively smoky, California-girl speaking voice over the decades.

In addition to shepherding Kellerman through the show, pianist Martel offered some lovely playing. Joining him were two Philadelphia-based musicians—percussionist Jon Ball and bassist Kevin McConnell—who proved to be good sports throughout the set.

I hope that whatever was going on with Kellerman on the night I saw her was only a fluke, a speck of bad luck. She still has a way with a song once she fights her way past the obstacles to sing it.

"A Little Jazz, a Little Blues, a Little Rock & Roll"
Iridiium – May 12