Music

‘Piano Man’s’ daughter showcases her talents at Cafe Carlyle

Her father’s making history with an unprecedented series of monthly concerts at Madison Square Garden, but Alexa Ray Joel is about to embark on a pretty prestigious gig of her own. Starting Tuesday night, the 28-year-old daughter of Billy Joel and supermodel Christie Brinkley begins a two-week headlining run at the prestigious Café Carlyle, the spiritual home of such musical legends as Bobby Short, Barbara Cook, Elaine Stritch and many others. The East Village singer-songwriter, who recently performed her father’s classic “Just the Way You Are” as part of The Gap’s “Back to Blue” ad campaign, spoke to The Post about her musical career.

You started writing songs when you were just a teenager?

I was a painfully shy, awkward teenager. Terrified of boys, had a lot of social anxiety. My hideout was to go to the piano and work on music. Of course, I was raised at the piano by my father. We would have these daylong musical sessions at the house while I was growing up. It eventually became an essential creative outlet that I think got me through my teen years.

Will you be singing your dad’s songs in your show?

There’s always that question. Having that Gap ad relieved the pressure. I was able to pay homage to my father by singing “Just the Way You Are,” but I was able to put my own feminine, more vulnerable emotional spin on the song. In the show, I’m going to do a mixture of my own songs and covers. It’s tricky. It’s that fine line of wanting to pay homage and to stay true to my own voice at the same time. But you’re going to have to wait and see.

I’m actually covering a [song by the punk band] Bad Religion. I thought it would be a little bit irreverent. The Carlyle is an elegant, grand institution. Of course I’ll be doing some old-school beautiful stuff. But I also wanted to shake things up a little bit. I don’t think that anybody’s played a Bad Religion, or any punk rock, song there. It’s a very eclectic set list. I hope there’s something for everybody.

Did your parents encourage your show-business aspirations?

They did. They had very different styles of supporting me. My mother’s a supermodel, my father’s a musician, so they have very different ways of approaching their careers and being in the spotlight. It’s cool for me because I get a good balance. He’s more reticent about coming to a show like the Carlyle because he is so respectful of me doing my own thing and he doesn’t want to drive attention away from my artistry. Mom will probably be front-row at every show. She’s always been my cheerleader and super-supportive.

Are you nervous about performing at such a storied venue?

No, because I know that I’m bringing my own sound to the table. If you’re doing a showcase at such an iconic venue you have to be able to tell your own story. If I were to show up and just do a bunch of Sondheim and Gershwin tunes, it would be artistic suicide. I’m trying to mix it up and break the rules and bring a little new blood into this old institution.

Five years ago you called 911 after taking an overdose of Traumeel, a homeopathic pain reliever. Did you really think you were in danger?

I think that every young woman, in their teens or early 20s, goes through something when you feel like you have no control over how you’re feeling. That was what I was feeling, and it was a call for help. It wasn’t a call for attention. I was horrified and terrified when the press got wind of it. I was just having a genuine panic attack. I was heartbroken about the breakup with my first boyfriend, who was my bass player. It felt like the end of the world.

Later I wrote a song called “Invisible” about the breakup. I think my music really healed me. And of course support from friends and loved ones. The perception that I was suicidal was not true. I was not trying to do anything to hurt myself. I was in a panic and took some Traumeel. I knew it wasn’t going to kill me. That’s what hurt the most, that misconception. But at the end of the day, it just made me stronger and added more substance to me as a person and as a singer-songwriter.