Jennifer Sanchez

Gin and Jazz

The Green Room 42, NYC, May 17, 2018

Reviewed by Randolph B. Eigenbrode for Cabaret Scenes

Jennifer Sanchez enters the venue looking earthy in a long and flowing black dress. The understated yet titillating garment, combined with luxurious tresses, makes her look like a model. Or, perhaps, she spends her summers on yachts cavorting with pro-sports players and foreign royalty.

With little fanfare, Sanchez sits on a tall stool.
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She strums her guitar. And she sings her (mostly original) songs. It quickly becomes apparent that she isn’t your run of the mill singer-songwriter.
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While she may appear to have a fabulous life, coasting along on her good looks, Sanchez’s deeply personal lyrics present quite a different story. They recount loser (and broke) ex-boyfriends, crushing rejection, and even a crazy dream regarding being choked by a noose.

Each song is almost defiant in its originality, even if she conveys them matter-of-factly.

In fact, it’s the witty and unexpected humor in Sanchez’s lyrics that separate her from her peers.

It can be blunt and/or self-effacing, but always honest. Early in “January,” she confesses what life is like in the Big Apple in the weeks following New Year’s Day: “January in New York City is for the 1%.”     

There’s no denying Sanchez’s charm on an audience. And her agile and breathy pop-tinged voice only reinforces her accessible appeal. Yet, again, she surprises with a medley of selections from her six Broadway shows (seven if you include the upcoming Pretty Woman). That vocal attack, much more in a contemporary theater vein, soars with a belty top end that also hints at a healthy soprano.

Time after time, Sanchez startles — much like her chord progressions that unexpectedly switch from minor to major. One minute the audience laughs at her quirky persona and unfiltered thoughts. And yet, on a dime, she illuminates her insecurities with a reserved melancholy. 

This was most evident in a placid “That Way,” gently backed by Mike Hunter on piano and Marianna Ramirez on percussion. Sanchez, still and somber, delicately navigated the resignation of a seemingly love-lost relationship avoiding anything maudlin or mawkish. Instead, we find defeat through hopeful eyes. (Outstanding.)

And finally she closes with a James Taylor-esque “Sunday” (Stephen Sondheim). Finding a groove, Sanchez beams. It picks up steam and she raps on her guitar, percussively underlining the build.
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And then, all at once, it climaxes with only a few lines left to go.  She waits, allowing the audience to lean forward in anticipation.  And one last time, Sanchez smiles and meekly finishes.

And, as she leaves the stage, we are left with a wholly unique portrait of a woman. She spends summers in Rego Park, Queens as opposed to yachting in the Bahamas. Yet, truth be told, the way she tells it, it seems more fabulous anyways.