In the ’90s, Ms. Warwick visited her family in Seattle and stopped by a local church. The pastor, spotting her in the pews, beseeched her to bless the parishioners with a holy warble. Warwick declined politely but firmly, so the pastor then preached on the evils of psychics. These past two decades, it has been just as easy to deride Whitney Houston’s hashish-fond cousin, but the Bacharach muse’s alto — throaty, assured, singular — certify her as legend.
Fri., Jan. 23, 8 p.m., 2009
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on January 14, 2009