By Elyssa Goldstein
It will certainly take much more than a major-label recording artist to excite a crowd of New Yorkers this winter. Kyle Riabko, whose Columbia Records debut, Before I Speak, was released in April 2005, struggled to captivate his restless New York City audience at the Living Room last Thursday.
Opening for fellow singer-songwriter-guitarist, David McMillin (who is, in fairness, no more well-known than his counterpart), Riabko’s 45-minute set was viewed by all except the few fans lingering in the crowd as an unnecessary obstacle in their quest to see a McMillin performance.
Riabko took the stage with only an acoustic guitar to shield him from the constant murmuring of the audience and opened his set with one of five unreleased compositions he performed that evening, the aptly-titled “Number One”. For the majority who had never seen or heard of Riabko before his opening number, his rich, blues-and-jazz-inspired vocals and fierce, rhythmic guitar playing did little to improve his status.
However, Riabko was clearly comfortable in his performance style – dancing and stomping to the beat, and effortlessly soaring between vocal lines both high and low. The crowd livened up a bit when Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” was quoted and he then performed a flawless guitar solo during “Teach Me” (from his debut album) but, once again, turned standoffish during the follow-up number, “Shed Your Skin”.
His dynamic scat solo during the performance was not enough to settle the crowd who had much to say about Riabko’s introduction to the song; “This song is about when you break up with a girl, and then you add up all the money you spent on her.”
Even an invitation for drummer, Mark McClain, to accompany Riabko on the blues-laden “I Had a Girl” did little to curtail side conversation about the performer’s John Mayer-esque facial quirks. As Riabko closed his set with his most well-known composition, “What Did I Get Myself Into,” a collective sigh could be heard throughout the crowd as they quite possibly wondered the same thing.
Despite his best efforts, Riabko failed to garner appreciation from the audience. Perhaps it was, at times, his almost-pretentious showmanship, or simply his “opening man” label that failed to ignite the crowd. Polite applause eased Riabko off the stage and toward the back of the room where he returned to being just another unknown face in a sea of New Yorkers.
