‘Shakin’ ’ like Sammy is no cabaret thing at Sin City Comedy Club

In a cozy comedy club there’s no space between the stage and the audience for grand, theatrical gestures. So we have that most intimate give-and-take, which …

Yeah, not so much.

Eric Jordan Young is here to kill it. And he’s going big.

Sammy Davis Jr. big.

We’re talking multiple costume changes, vigorous footwork framed by two female dancers, and even some theatrical transitions paying homage to TV variety of the ’70s, all scrunched in front of a four-piece band.

The Sin City Comedy Club may be the launch pad for Young’s self-produced showcase “Shakin’,” but it’s clearly not the endgame. Young isn’t a cabaret singer scaling down to his environment, but a musical theater veteran with a voice to match his outsized stage presence.

“Shakin’,” booked for a 90-day run, reflects a resume that includes the Broadway cast of “Seussical,” the Las Vegas version of “Starlight Express” and, most recently, the role of singing host in “Vegas! The Show.”

Young puts on a big show in a little room, one that burns so many calories and covers so much ground you can’t believe it lasts only an hour.

He’s a sincere version of an old-Vegas hepcat, and doesn’t hide his influences. He literally wears them as he costume-changes behind a scrim, telling us how he grew up on Flip Wilson or Carol Burnett.

He’s not just asking us to remember the days when everyone watched only three channels and could sing the Alka-Seltzer jingle; he’s asking us to help make them groovy again.

That’s the irony of a vehicle with humor but not parody. This personality showcase that used to be synonymous with the Strip now depends on whether the people who would appreciate it can find it.

I’m quick to bust myself as one of them, so it’s hard to say whether you will be more bogged down by the line between “retro” and “camp” when Young suits up in ’70s pimp wear for the theme to “Baretta.”

Helping sway things to the former is the energizing live band under the helm of Alec Bart. The players dive into old standards like young rockers — no mushy keyboard strings here — and pull fresh arrangements out of potential eye-rollers such as “Up, Up and Away” and “Downtown.”

If there’s ever a misstep in this carefully paced revue, it’s when Young overtly pays tribute to Davis, whose spirit so much informs the whole hour that it’s almost overkill when Young gets to his actual songs.

“Mr. Bojangles” makes so light of its lyric that we realize it was Davis’ age and gravity which grounded it. Likewise, “I’ve Gotta Be Me” worked because it was Davis defining his unconventional life, not a guy patterning his own life on the legend.

But these are quibbles about an effort that’s inspirational in its own right. If there’s any Vegas left in Vegas, Young’s show will have legs.

Not that he doesn’t. Didn’t mention the drag part, did I?

Contact reporter Mike Weatherford at mweatherford@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0288.