When Bridget Everett debuted her exhilarating, heartbreaking comedy “Somebody, Somewhere” on HBO in January 2022, all I knew of her was a few wild appearances on “Inside Amy Schumer.” I didn’t know she was a Kansas artist. I didn’t know she was a cabaret singer, songwriter, comedian, actor, writer, and producer. Experiencing “Somebody, Somewhere” changed all that — for me and everybody else.

The show’s popularity created a demand for Everett’s cabaret act, which is popular in Manhattan (New York). On March 9, she brought “Big Titties, Big Dreams” to the intimate Uptown Theater in Kansas City, Missouri, not far from her hometown of Manhattan (Kansas). It was a pleasure to join 2,399 of her closest friends at the sold-out show. Let me share seven glorious things gleaned from the experience:

Those incredible stage looks, created just for Everett by designer Larry Krone. When she entered the stage Monday night at the Uptown Theater in Kansas City, our girl glowed in flowy layers that soon slipped away into a draped uber-mini, glittering pink-and-silver number that released her inner tramp, a marvelous thing. I don’t know if Everett herself or her stage persona is possessed of this degree of confidence. Regardless, she is stunning and when armed like this in front of a worshipping audience, she simply cannot be stopped. 

The hilarious, often sad, weird, dirty, and/or sweet songs she writes and sings for us. The comedian is at her best sharing possibly autobiographical tales using a combination of song, story, and dance. In “Titties,” she's not afraid to go way-in blue — in a hands-on way, into the audience — when she explains how her mother comforted her when she was attacked by bullies. She was quick to remind us that “Pussy Grabs Back,” and happy to share some enthusiastic dance moves. “Have a Nice Day,” which she wrote for “Somebody, Somewhere,” is a splendid example of her candid songwriting approach that wraps longing, humor, and optimism in a messy, convoluted bundle. When it comes to songs written by other singers, Everett burst forth during a segment about recent losses in her life with Elton John’s “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me,” and cheeks were wet throughout the house.  

That voice. Everett attended Arizona State University on a full scholarship from the National Endowment for the Arts, which she shared with the audience. Her rich, alto/contralto tone is sexy, silky, and smooth, soaring into chilling heights when she lets loose with that impressive belt. “Art is important,” she reminded us. “Music is essential.” (“We can’t ever let anyone make us forget that.”) And the sound was impressive. I did not miss a word. 

The Tender Moments. A tight quartet, these guys play with Everett at Joe’s Pub in New York, where she often performs. Matt Ray is on piano, Adam Horovitz plays bass, Mike Jackson on the guitar, and Carmine Covelli plays the drums. It is easy to tell that some configuration or another of this group has been playing with and behind Everett for more than a decade.

Her relationship with herself. Everett’s relationship with Everett is a constantly moving target. She is 6 feet tall and recalls growing up “odd looking” and being teased about her distinctiveness. Her glamorously dressed stage presence is aggressively sexy, self-assured, fierce, and unflappable. She examines motherhood with the lighthearted assistance of some terrifying dolls, looking so deeply inside herself that you can see self-love and self-loathing coexist. 

She is a Kansan, through and through. While the artist lives and works in Manhattan (the Big Apple), New York, she was born and raised in Manhattan (the Little Apple), Kansas. That above-mentioned nervy strategy with which she approaches life is tempered with self-deprecating jabs, something I observe in many of my favorite Kansans. Or is it that my friends and I are a lot like Everett, as we live in a place we love but sometimes struggle to relate to? 

People who love her really, really love her. Wherever they came from to see her — from her hometown of Manhattan to, say, Wichita — everyone in the house was over the moon to welcome Everett back to the Plains. Audience members called out their support, telling her how much they adored her. Everett spent a decent amount of time in the audience, flirting and hugging, laughing and baiting, recognizing friends, and teasing men with her famously braless decolletage — and they could not get enough. Of course she was playing to a hometown crowd (many of whom looked downright uptight when the show started), but by the time the night wrapped up, we were all on our feet cheering. The ovation was heartily earned and richly deserved. 

Teri Mott is a writer and actor in Wichita, Kansas, where she covers the arts as a critic and feature writer. She is a co-founder of The SHOUT.

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