A charming revue reminds us why
Burt Bacharach’s songs remain timeless

An overture! An honest-to-goodness overture!

All right, so maybe I’m overreacting a bit, but I adore overtures, and they have been largely missing—or severely truncated—in musicals over the last several years. Not so in Going Bacharach: The Songs of an Icon, a charming revue of the astonishing catalog of legendary composer Burt Bacharach and his lyricist Hal David. The production was a smash hit Off-Broadway earlier this year and has transferred to the Apollo Theater in Lincoln Park, with its creative team and cast largely intact.

The set design by twins Christopher Swader and Justin Swader is pitched somewhere between a Vegas stage and an Art Deco speakeasy, with cool-cat, moody lighting from Matt Berman, who is also responsible for the excellent sound design. Arrayed at the rear is a fine Chicago-based quartet of musicians, and leading them up front is jazz wunderkind Adrian Galante on piano and clarinet. Galante is also the co-creator of the revue, the music director, and responsible for the arrangements and orchestrations. He also serves as an emcee of sorts. Clearly, he does not have enough to do.

Conceived by revue maven Jack Lewin (Our Sinatra), Going Bacharach is almost quaint in its old-fashionedness. It features three powerhouse vocalists: John Pagano, who toured as lead vocalist with Bacharach for a quarter-century; Eben K. Logan, Equity Jeff Award winner for her turn as Celie in Drury Lane’s The Color Purple; and Ava Locknar, a young singer destined for bigger things. It also boasts a terrific band, a host of great songs, and not much else because, quite simply, it does not need anything else.

Burt Bacharach is widely—and rightfully—regarded as one of the most influential composers in popular music, blending jazz, pop, blues, and orchestral music in unusual progressions, creating a sound that somehow managed to be incredibly varied while remaining distinctive and instantly identifiable. His songs are notoriously difficult to sing, an aspect beautifully illustrated in Act II when Locknar sings the intro to Promises, Promises—Bacharach’s only musical score—counting out the multiple time signatures in lieu of lyrics.

The vocalists are wonderful. Pagano—who’s been singing this material since Galante and Logan were in grade school, and before Locknar was even born—brings the casual swagger of a pro to his performance, knowing exactly when to rein it in and when to let loose. I especially loved his tightly controlled rendition of “A House Is Not a Home,” a gorgeous ballad that over the past couple of decades has been rendered almost unlistenable—to me at least—by the many melodramatic and excessively melismatic covers that have polluted the airwaves since the debut of American Idol. Logan took a minute to settle her nerves—the show has been extended and it was her first appearance in the revue, with less than two days of rehearsal, to which I say, “Damn!”—but she’s got a gorgeous voice and acquits herself beautifully with “Anyone Who Had a Heart” serving as her standout moment.

I was most taken with Ava Locknar, a tall striking brunette—she has a one-woman show called Tall Girl Singing—with the legs of a femme fatale, the voice of a diva, and a goofy comic presence in sharp counterpoint to her appearance. She’s got most of the funny bits in the show and nails them effortlessly.

Going Bacharach benefits immensely from having singer-actors in the cast because they act the songs rather than merely belt them out. That’s not to say there aren’t soaring final notes—there are plenty—but they’re tempered by quieter moments that provide a necessary balance. The highlight of the show for me was Locknar’s stunning interpretation of “Alfie”—arguably the peak of the Bacharach-David partnership. With Galante providing beautiful clarinet accompaniment—there’s a gorgeous frame during his solo, with Locknar in profile and shadow, her silhouette sharply outlined by the stray light escaping from his spotlight—her vocals shift and modulate, searching out every nuance in the lyrics. It was breathtaking.

The fourth powerhouse onstage is, of course, Adrian Galante, whose piano sets the pace and energy of the evening. That said, as spectacular as he is on the keys, I could listen to his clarinet for days. His arrangements are quite clever and mostly successful. I particularly liked the cheeky treatment of “Do You Know the Way to San Jose?” and the catchy reworking of “The Look of Love.” When they didn’t click, at least for me, it was usually because of an especially iconic version of the song. There’s a lovely duet of “Close to You,” sung by Pagano and Locknar, that didn’t work for me because I simply cannot imagine anyone but Karen Carpenter singing it. It’s just wrong when anyone else does it. Ditto “I Say a Little Prayer,” beautifully sung here by Logan.

It’s not them; it’s me.

The flaw is mine.

Where Going Bacharach occasionally falters is in the banter, which isn’t especially strong, and in one misguided attempt to correct lyrics for modern times. “Wives and Lovers” (1963) is certainly sexist, but even at the time of its release there was a tongue-in-cheek quality to its sexism. Creating a response song with an entirely new set of lyrics feels unnecessary—especially given Locknar’s expressions while singing the original, which already place the song in context. That the new lyrics aren’t particularly good only makes matters worse.

Much better are the performers’ reflections on Bacharach and his music, which place the songs in a personal context. There’s an emotional honesty there that no amount of banter can replace. An especially poignant aside from Pagano is delivered so casually that I almost missed it.

There’s an entertaining two hours to be had here. Hop to it.

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photos by Russ Rowland

Going Bacharach: The Songs of an Icon
Apollo Theater
2550 N. Lincoln Ave. in Chicago
ends on June 21, 2026
for tickets ($49–$99; VIP cabaret seating $139), visit Going Bacharach

for more shows, visit Theatre in Chicago

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