Tim Rogers in 'Saligia' @ theOpera House, 29/07/10

Fri 30th Jul, 2010 in Gig Reviews

”Welcome to Purgatory, fuckers!”

Apologies for the abrupt profanity, but when Tim Rogers writes a show about the Seven Deadly Sins, one should be prepared for a bit more vulgarity than one might expect from, say, a parish priest discussing the same subject. For all its references to Dante and the neat cabaret trappings, Saligia has rock ‘n’ roll at its heart. As the frontman for You Am I, Rogers earned a colourful reputation for his relationship with liquor and “Class A’s”, and it’s that rockstar lifestyle that informs Saligia’s take on lust, greed, gluttony and pride, amongst other transgressions.

Of course, rock’s association with sin is nothing new. Decried from the moment of its birth, it (like its father, the blues) was entwined with devilish deals at the crossroads and Satanic requests, so much so that sin barely raises an eyebrow in the sweaty and filth of rock. Cabaret, on the other hand, with its elegant airs and polite sophistication a thin veneer over seediness and intrigue, is a much more fertile vessel for reflections on vice and sin. It worked for Brecht & Weill, and it works for Tim Rogers.

Though Rogers professes more than once to be a “God-fearing man”, there’s nothing of the sermon about Saligia, no moral to the story or lesson to be learned. Rogers is more concerned with the nature of sin, and of sinners, than with any notion of judgement, no matter how often he refers to the Divine Comedy’s grotesque punishments. He is a self-confessed sinner, albeit a roguish one with no eye on repentance or salvation. He tells his stories with a self-deprecating wit and disarming insight, one sinner to a room full of the same, as he tries to figure out what sin is, and why it is so alluring.

Saligia has a ramshackle charm to it, much like its creator. For all the hours of rehearsal no doubt involved in its preparation, the show unfolds with natural grace. The songs, too, sidestep obvious musical choices: Gluttony’s gypsy waltz gives way to Lust’s tender balladry, while Greed takes the form of a song about Adelaide (a logical non-sequitur that only a charmer like Tim Rogers can make credible).

Rogers’ backing musicians, a seven-piece army of strings, percussion and piano, are the quiet achievers of the evening, their professionalism keeping the occasionally rambling Rogers on track even as he led them.

If you’re looking for answers to the great spiritual questions, you’ll be better served at your local house of worship; if, on the other hand, you’re after a bit of light cabaret with dark overtones, Saligia might be right up your alley.