Clint Holmes

April 15, 2012

“This Thing Called Love, Cole Porter & Paul Simon”

Café Carlyle  –  April 10 – 28

With creative programming, an imaginative concept, and a daring performance that knocks expectations out the window, Clint Holmes’s new show at the Café Carlyle is not so much an evening of song as it is a hell of a ride. Mind you, the mere fact of combining Cole Porter and Paul Simon material in a show about love would, itself, have been enough to pique one’s interest, but Holmes and Co. have taken this idea and run very far with it.

Pairing Simon’s “Feelin’ Groovy” and Porter’s “It’s De-Lovely” might have been a fairly obvious choice, but Holmes’s approach is very untraditional: he takes the subject of happiness quite seriously, starting with a lyric-sensitive rendition of the Simon song and continuing the mood in the second song, basking in love with a quiet expression of joy; only at the end does he build in romantic fervor.

The show is rich with interpretations that are both singular and eloquent. I’ve never heard the meaning of “Loves Me Like a Rock” come through so forcefully. Holmes’s reading makes it clear that it was the strength of his mother’s love that empowered him not to take nonsense or crap from anyone. See how he delivers the line “Who do you think you’re fooling?”, not as a question, but as a challenge dripping with defiance.

In an extraordinary section, songs are set within the context of a married man who has an affair with another woman. The scenario is established and maintained through interspersed dialogue. It begins with Holmes determined to “Have a Good Time” (Simon); a compleat artist, Holmes expresses this resolve not only vocally, but also physically, in many small ways. This is followed by Porter’s “It’s All Right With Me,” in which he cuts loose and goes wild having a good time. But the affair was “Just One of Those Things.” Though this last Porter song is familiar, Holmes’s approach, a combination of theatre and jazz, with a quite remarkable vocal riff, is, once again, unlike any other. The storyline continues with a paring of Porters “Get Out of Town” and Simon’s “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover,” which, part jazz, part blues, builds to a cacophonous, frenzied conclusion. In a superb acting turn, meeting his former lover a long time later, Holmes has become cynical and bitterly disillusioned in Simon’s “Still Crazy After All These Years.”

In lesser hands, this entire dramatic device could have seemed hokey; here, it’s thrilling. Part of me fears that I may have revealed too many details; however, I don’t think any verbal description, no matter how accurate, could spoil the wallop this segment delivers. Speaking for myself, experiencing artistry this innovative, this commanding, this dazzling, gives me the fuel to continue going out night after night.

The evening is not without its problems. Most grievous is an electronic keyboard that weighs in from time to time. It’s not only that most of those musical passages would have been better with no electronic keyboard, but also that this keyboard has a particularly artificial and, so, unwelcome sound. Also, a three-song Cole Porter section in the first half of the show is not up to the standards of the rest of the evening. Some “hip” [read, tacky] modified lyrics have found their way into “I’ve Got You Under My Skin,” which segues to a rendition of “I Concentrate on You” that has been given a Latin instrumental arrangement that is too schmaltzy and detracts from Holmes’s more straightforward vocal; this is followed by a too-nightclubby arrangement of “Night and Day”—though there is an element of emotional validity to its fevered finish.

But, then, this Porter set is followed by a pairing of Paul Simon songs that fares much better: Holmes makes a persuasive, dramatically grounded transition from “I Do It for Your Love, with its poignant look-back on the early days of a relationship, to “Slip Slidin’ Away,” in which he confronts disenchantment. And the show gives us at least a half-dozen other exceptional interpretations.

The band consists of musical director/pianist Jeffrey Neiman, Steve Beskrone on bass, Greg Utzig on guitar, Sherrie Maricle on drums, Richie Rodriguez on percussion, and Ken Gioffre on saxophone. The show was created and produced by Cecilia Joyce Johnson and directed by Larry Moss. Neiman supplied the arrangements, and in his thank you’s, Holmes says that Neiman helped conceptualize the show. Without having been at the working sessions, one can’t say exactly who should be credited for exactly what, but one certainly can say that there is a considerable amount of brilliance on display at the Café Carlyle at the moment.

 


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About the Author

Roy Sander has been covering cabaret and theatre for over thirty years. He’s written cabaret and theatre reviews, features, and commentary for seven print publications, most notably Back Stage, and for CitySearch on the Internet. He covered cabaret monthly on “New York Theatre Review” on PBS TV, and cabaret and theatre weekly on WLIM-FM radio. He was twice a guest instructor at the London School of Musical Theatre. A critic for BistroAwards.com, he is also the site’s Reviews Editor; in addition, he is Chairman of the Advisory Board of MAC.