“Sin” Scene 17

“Tango” and “Who’s the Sinner.”  Santana, observing how Luis has pardoned Faith and Devlin even though they’ve signed their souls over to her, steps in to have a word with her former lover.  She presents her case, accusing Luis of being a hypocrite, a liar, cold and simply wrong.  She points out that her plan all along was to create a situation that would drive a corrupted, miserable man into the arms of a devout woman and, by forcing them to “walk through fire,” bring them together in a bond of love.  She reveals that, in fact, she has actually helped these two people fall in love, and asks Luis what he’s done by comparison.  She claims he created humans for no other reason than to have them die after a painful life, that he doesn’t care about anything or anyone, that he’s inconsistent in his guidance and, if he was honorable, he’d admit that he’s the true “sinner” between the two of them.  This was Santana’s plan all along:  by using her “satanic” powers, which include deceit, passion and ambition, she’s done better by humans, and actually helped to create love. Luis rebuts that he knows, and he knows that Santana knows, that they are just two sides of the same coin and have been duking it out for all eternity—and always will be doing so.   Santana works herself up into a fever of accusations before Luis stops her with a kind, but stern, admonition:  neither she nor anyone that exists can understand what it is to be in charge of literally everything, and although he’s sorry, there’s nothing he can do about it--it is what it is.  Santana has, in essence, been “defeated” once again, in terms of her quest to one-up Luis this time anyway. 

As Santana and Luis finish their argument, the sound of Faith and Devlin singing the refrains of “I Don’t Need Love” but with a strong finish of “…but ooh I need you” confirms that the two of them exist in a world where gods and goddesses are no longer powerful—or even, perhaps, needed at all.  Santana and Luis exit, contemplative. 

The first thing my mom said to me when she heard my “tango” was, “Can you really use the ‘Hernando’s Hideaway’ riff like that?”  Good ol’ mom, you couldn’t put anything past her.  I told her, yes, I could use it—for one thing, it’s recognizable enough to be kind of funny, yet obscure enough (to the audience I knew “Sin” would play to) few would probably get it.  Second, I felt (and so far, so good) it’s unlikely my show would get the kind of attention that would be enough to raise anyone’s ire over copyright/plagiarism issues. 

But yes, even if in my mind I was merely “borrowing” it, I took that riff, verbatim, and it worked great—if there’s another more punctual, instantly recognizable riff for a campy tango number I don’t know what it is (yet).  I also borrowed heavily from the old classic “Blue Tango.”  These were things I grew up with and so I referenced them—again, I’m not a musician by trade (if only I was, life might be easier) I play by ear, operate off the cuff.  I created physical written-notated scores for things when I was a kid but haven’t done it in years.  I took heart hearing Pete Townsend say up until the Broadway “Tommy” he had never written a score either. 

I'm often asked about the klezmer-inspired ending of this song, a hint of which is also included in "Get to Work" earlier in the show. The short answer is it just felt "right." I've witnessed a lot of professional artists getting the question of "where does stuff come from" (Stephen King sticks out in my mind) and I always thought it was a cop out when they'd say, "I honestly don't know, it just came." But that really was the case here. It's likely I experienced a similar moment in something I liked in my formative years and remembered it, processed it and brought it back in my own way, but all I can say is the moment hit me like a ton of bricks one night when I was thinking about how to do the song--it came, fully formed, into my head so I used it best I could--I didn't want to ignore my muse if the muse was trying to communicate with me!

There was also an attempt, on my part, to offer up a conversation about how males and females approach relationships; I was raised when "Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus," the once-famous John Gray book, was a thing, anyway.

This was a really fun number to put together on all fronts.  It was a nice contrast from the serious middle section of the show and reaffirmed that the piece is about more than just the will-they-or-won’t-they love affair between Faith and Devlin.  It also lightened things up again tonally but in an organic way.  Lyrically it was an exposition piece so it just required the right words got out and were emphasized properly.  I tightened it up a bit after the demo version because it wasn’t completely clear what Santana was “saying.”  By the 2015 version I had adjusted the lyrics so it’s more obvious that she says, “This was my plan all along, to show who you are—to everyone, and to yourself.” 

It seemed like it was a fun song to sing/emote and the audience liked it…and then we get to the “Who’s the Sinner?” section… 

I probably owe Saudia, Terri and Tricia an apology…after building a show with dozens of songs for the “Santana” character, creating songs in my own vocal range in different musical styles, I also felt compelled to throw in several tongue-twisting numbers and a couple of torchy show-stoppers (see the next scene).  It was a lot to ask of a performer, and everyone who did the role just nodded and went for it, leaving me unaware just what a challenge it was.    Saudia in particular worked really, really hard to make sure she had it down just right and I think her performance is a testament to the dedication she showed to my humble project.  I reiterate I can’t quite believe the level of talent I was able to attract to this production.  I can’t imagine it being any better than Saudia did it, certainly, but everyone who did it was pure magic in the role. 

Still, I really liked what Kay did with the song in 2011…she actually did work out a simple tango Sean and Terri could do while holding corded mics and it worked really well (except for one of the bar mics fell apart when Sean went to pick it up, being the pro he is he barely broke stride and the audience hardly noticed). Terri and Sean were a great fit and you really got a sense that they were a mature couple sparring over the spoils of a broken marriage—and that each of them were equals in the battle (and, though it’s subtext, that neither of them are REALLY all that invested, being immortal gods just looking for ways to amuse themselves throughout eternity).   Anyway, it was a very fun moment, a small hint of Kay’s genius and the rapport I had with Kay that led to her inventing specific staging with my shows that was also very specific to her style (the skips at the end with Devlin and Faith are very much her ha ha): https://youtu.be/-7Bagfnj4ZQ

For 2015 we just didn’t have the time or resources to stage an actual tango and we got called out of it a few times by reviewers for that oversight—the dancers were offstage and by then and the audience certainly were probably growing bored with the visual of characters just standing in front of the mics on the tiny stage—I also didn’t put anything eye-attracting in the projections for this song. 

I haven’t mentioned the projections much because they weren’t that noteworthy—ideally I would have had a huge digital screen for this show…I got the idea from watching the world premiere of Terry Johnson’s “Hitchcock Blonde” on the west end in 2003…I was blown away by the technology and how it enabled the production to whip vivid, actual—but stylized—backdrops on and off in the blink of an eye.  It wasn’t feasible for me to do that in 2011 or 2015 so I came up with what I could—something to distract the eyes if we never got “Sin” out of staged-reading status.  It has occurred to me over the years the show should always perhaps be just an “in concert” thing, considering the way it plays out--it’s all conceptual anyway.  Something to ponder, perhaps. 

Anyway, the 2015 version is a bit more stagnant in staging, but the rapport between Rich and Saudia makes up for it.  We get another wonderful, powerful performance from Rich (despite some missing lines—he had his work cut out for him with this one too and it’s a credit to his professionalism that he never gave up no matter what I asked him to do in this show).  Saudia, of course, steals the show as always, playing it as a mix of petulance and power, sexy and sweet.  But you really, really feel (I think) her indignation and determination for some sort of justice, and her pride in the face of being thwarted…then her sense of confusion and defeat—it’s just stunning work from a phenomenal performer who created a true character that went well beyond the book I’d written for the show.  https://youtu.be/vrGgaMnhrbk