2012 Sydney Festival (theatre)

Image source: Sydney Festival

L'Effet de Serge
11 January (Seymour Centre)

Blurb: Meet Serge. Every Sunday he entertains his friends with a parade of homespun spectacles, animating everything around his basement and putting some magic back into their lives. With a nod to Jacques Tati, Samuel Beckett and Mr Bean, L'Effet de Serge is a haunting and humorous tribute to the pleasures and necessity of making art.

A disclaimer: I received this as a complimentary ticket for being a good little volunteer. I'd had it on my original shortlist, but it was knocked off due to limited funds so I was glad to be able to see it.

I think it's a bit of a stretch to name Tati, Beckett and Bean in the L'Effet de Serge blurb, even as a 'nod'. I'm not familiar with Tati, but Beckett is much more profound and Bean is far more slapstick than Serge turned out to be.

Which is not to say that the play isn't funny. The gentle humour of Serge is testament to Gaetan Vourc'h's performance as the titular character: a deadpan walkthrough that makes the audience do the work to find the humour in his actions. These days, so much is handed on a platter to the audience, everything is overplayed, that this was a welcome respite from being told what to think and when to laugh. How very European.

The pace was correspondingly slow, which would border on boring for the less patient audience members, but there wasn't much I didn't like. The premise was simple: weekends in the life of Serge, who wants to entertain his friends. His friends are enlightened by what he can do with simple household objects. C'est ca. Whether on not the audience is similarly enlightened is for each individual to say. Serge is what it is.

What I did enjoy immensely was the intro and the outro to the piece. It seems director Philippe Quesne's signature is to sandwich his productions with the end 'credits' of the previous one and an overview of the next, as if in a TV show. The preceding play was D'Apres Nature, so we first see Vourc'h don a spacesuit as if exploring Serge's apartment; the next play is something funny involving invisible people and wigs (perhaps La Melancolie des dragons). Here Vourc'h overtly plays for laughs and the effect is a counterpoint to the subtlety of Serge.

Play rating: 7/10 – placid piece of theatre requires input from audience
Enjoyment rating: 8/10 – enjoyed it more than I realised

*** *** ***

Image source: Sydney Festival

A History of Everything
14 January (Wharf 2) 

Blurb: Inspired by Darwin and Dawkins on the theory of evolution, by cosmology and the realisation that we're but a tiny dot on the timeline, A History of Everything spins backwards to the first fiery bang before leaping to our possible hereafters. A profound rollercoasting journey, this production will make you treasure your place in the history of everything.

This was an extraordinary piece of theatre. Starting with the news of the day, which I've totally forgotten now, the play exponentially cycles backwards in time to events of the past that have had an impact on humankind and then beyond that to when dinosaurs populated the earth and then beyond that to life's amoeba beginnings and the Big Bang in reverse. All on a large world map.

It is conceivable that the idea is not original, but the choice of what to represent (and the changing news of the day in each performance) was key to the effectiveness of the message: that not only are we just a blip in the history of the earth, we place far too little emphasis on how the past can teach us about who we are.

There were plenty of laughs, in particular the periodic Apple product announcements highlighting a revolution in technology in reverse chronological order: the iPad, the iPhone and then the iPod, and light-hearted look at politics and entertainment history. The performers also interwove their own personal histories, each saying a few words about the circumstances of their birth, which had the curious effect of breaking down the fourth wall while effortlessly integrating it into the piece.

As the days, months, years, decades, centuries and millennia cycle back the performance becomes more profound. Most affecting was the indication of war across the continents and across the centuries, all showing that despite numerous conflicts it seems we've never learnt our lessons. I enjoyed this trip very much and was highly impressed with the performers' energy and insight into our past, which carried well across the theatre.

Play rating: 10/10 – energetic, profound, perfectly executed
Enjoyment rating: 9/10 – highlighted my ignorance of history

2012 Sydney Festival (music)

• Mountain Mocha Kilimanjaro
• Julianna Barwick
• 41 Strings by Nick Zinner
• Amiina
  

Image source: Hot Source

Mountain Mocha Kilimanjaro supported by Electric Empire
8 January (Keystone Festival Bar)

Blurb: Mountain Mocha Kilimanjaro combine the rawest soulful grooves that would spark up anyone's dancing shoes and the furious energy of rock and roll, laying it all down in the classiest of funk manners.

Firstly, it poured like crazy. I'm talking about constant rain alternating between buckets and steady drenching. Secondly, the Festival Bar is not the best place to be when it's wet. The red gravel outside gets stuck to your shoes/feet and the inside of the tent smells like mildewy sweaty people.

When I finally made it to the venue—wet despite my raincoat *and* umbrella—I headed straight for the bar and had a cider, then settled in a safe little corner in front of the mixing desk for Electric Empire's final three songs. The mood was jovial and people were bopping energetically. I wrung out my dress in a small puddle.

MMK alighted the stage to wild screams and applause. I'd seen these guys before, a couple of years ago at Festival First Night, and they were deserving of the over-the-top welcome. The gig hit all the right notes: amusing banter in stilted English from the frontman, some really tight jazz-inspired solo instrumentals from each of the musicians, and an infectious rhythm that got the house jumping early on.

I spent the better part of the night in the air, surprised at my own stamina as much as MMK's. The musicians played with vigour and verve, with a love for the music and the crowd that was clearly visible even from halfway down the tent. There wasn't anything to fault in the set, but correspondingly there wasn't anything extra special here, just a solid night of funk. Which, it must be said, is never a bad thing. 

Gig rating: 8/10 – top marks for making a miserable night worth coming out for
Enjoyment rating: 7/10 – it's hard to dance in a wet dress

*** *** ***

Image source: Sydney Festival

Julianna Barwick

15 January (The Famous Spiegeltent)

Blurb: Julianna Barwick's atmospheric world is one of ghostly echoes, galactic lullabies and traditional chants. By means of loops and pedals, and occasional piano and percussion, she builds layer upon layer of abstract vocals to create a delicate sound of lush ambient folk.

I'll start by saying that Barwick sings as if she's doing the theme music that might accompany a flight of angels. There are equal parts longing and wonder in her voice, a beauty so ethereal that it hurts the good hurt.

Coupled with the magnificent interior of The Famous Spiegeltent, my favourite festival venue, Barwick's songs capture that which most singers find elusive: a certain enigma in the aural aesthetic. Lush and ambient, indeed.

Unfortunately the performance didn't amount to much more than Barwick and her loop pedal and a couple of instruments. I spent a large part of the set squandering my second-row seat and gazing up at the chandelier (for Meow Meow's show) or closing my eyes and letting the notes sink in. There have been more interesting things done with loop pedals (I'm thinking of Mr Percival or Holly from Fergus Brown), so the method is a means of creating a choral effect rather than a novelty. Barwick also didn't bother to invest in a rapport with the audience, despite the reach of her music.

So, although I was glad for this introduction to Miss Barwick—and believe me, I spent a large part of the gig transfixed—I wouldn't rush to buy a ticket to another live performance of hers when the money and time would be better spent just acquiring her albums and getting to know them.

Gig rating: 7/10 – not so much a performance as a recital
Enjoyment rating: 7/10 – aurally spectacular, but no meaningful connections

*** *** ***

Image source: Sydney Festival

41 Strings by Nick Zinner featuring the Australian Youth Orchestra

5.20pm, 22 January (Sydney Opera House)

Blurb: The piece is part concerto in the classical tradition, but with the modern rock ‘n' roll feel one would expect from Zinner. Zinner conducts and plays an in-the-round experience with an impressive line-up of acoustic and electric strings, ranging from violins to electric bass (with some drums and synths thrown in for good measure).

I don't know Nick Zinner from Adam. Oh yes, I've heard of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs but have no idea who's in the band and would not be able to hum a bar of any of their songs if my life depended on it. So let's just establish that I came to the concert on the promise that this would be a dynamic and interesting orchestral experience more akin to an epic instrumental with rock sensibilities than an alternative version of Vivaldi's The Four Seasons. I'm happy to say it was all that and more.

The support act was IIII, a piece also inspired by The Four Seasons, performed by a drum circle. The start was wayward, more noise than music, but once a more conventional rhythm kicked in, all was well. While the piece provided a good kickstart to proceedings and foreshadowed what was to come, I felt it outstayed its welcome. I love me a good drum (I'm a taiko enthusiast after all and a big fan of TaikOz and Synergy Percussion) but I felt the repetition drag on the ears after 10 minutes. The audience were also restless and eager to hear the main performance.

After the interval we were rewarded with the appearance of Zinner surrounded by members of the Australian Youth Orchestra, a handful of drummers from the first set and a few guitarists. To say the piece exuded big themes would not be an understatement. There was a palpable sense that music—and the musicians—knew what it was like to be alive, which complemented a feeling of human insignificance in a bigger picture.

It was great to hear guitar licks alongside the heightened emotions of the strings and I highly recommend that anyone who enjoyed this check out deepblue orchestra, which I would nominate as the only other group that could pull off something this ambitious on roughly the same scale. One petty gripe, one that affected the gig for me, was that the violins were far too shrill at the afternoon performance—more a fault of sound engineering than performance.

Gig rating: 9/10 – epic
Enjoyment rating: 8/10 – inspired some dynamic dreaming 

*** *** ***

Image source: Sydney Festival

Amiina

25 January (The Famous Spiegeltent)

Blurb: Beginning life as the string section for Sigur Rós, Amiina have a unique electronically-infused and ethereal sound. The band's original line-up has since been augmented by the percussive sounds of glockenspiels and bells, as well as saws and other instruments. Live, Amiina deliver an aural treat, creating a dreamy, enigmatic and precisely organised chaos. A must for fans of the beauty and subtlety of contemporary Icelandic music.

What exactly is 'contemporary Icelandic music'? Does anyone actually have a solid definition of this term? Is it sparse ambient music, the kind you'd expect whales to make talking to icebergs? Or is it an icy whisper, like snow falling on a leaf?

Amiina's music embodies the essence of nature in an eloquent, electronic form. There is much that is folksy about the band members' performance but the sound goes beyond a cabin in the woods to bring listeners a flavour of the outdoors. It's like one of those films where the protagonist goes off to 'find himself' and discovers that the world is so much bigger than he imagined. A lot of Amiina's work stands on the precipice where there's an overwhelming tightness in the realisation of the enormity of it all followed swiftly by an acceptance, a love of one's place in the big wide, beautiful world.

The performance, while at times shambolic, was comforting gig with enough humour and grace to make the wait in the pouring rain a worthwhile one. I was particularly impressed with the instrumental handsaw. I mean, where do you get that kind of thing? How do you learn to play it? How do you make sound that blossoms with such a tool?

As a whole there was a lot of love in the room. The lush interior of the spiegeltent fit well with the music, and even the rain outside contributed to the cosiness of it all. Amiina were talented and endearing, and I hope when I see them again it will be in a venue as intimate as this.

Gig rating: 8/10 – sweet but not exceptional
Enjoyment rating: 8/10 – too much drifting can make one impatient

Early does it

I'm not a great fan of the early rise. Which is not to say that I hate mornings - rather, I'm not keen on afternoons but the timetable of the world I live in dictates that it's not convenient to sleep from 12 to 8pm every day and live through 8pm to noon.

But waking up is hard to do. It probably takes me about an hour to properly wake up, which is why I have a routine so that I can do things on autopilot. I generally pack my bag the night before, too, as I'm likely to forget things in my dawning phase.

There are very few things for which I will wake up early. Travel is certainly one - there's nothing like an early dash to the airport (or, less glamorously, to the bus station in Armidale at 3.20am). Work I will tolerate, but only if it means I can finish something. And, it seems, art excursions.

Due to an error involving a flight back from Brisbane the night before and a one-hour time difference, I missed my name on John Baldessari's Your Name in Lights for Sydney Festival, which was at the fairly civilised time of 12:23:40am on a Sunday morning. So I submitted my name again, and a few others. The time came back 5:53am on a Saturday morning.

I decided to hand the decision to my boyfriend. I rang him: "What are you doing at 5:53 tomorrow morning?" "Um..." "Would you like to go on an excursion with me?" His answer would determine whether we would. "Okay. What is it?"

So I woke up at 4.30am, caught the first train (4.56am) from Artarmon to Town Hall and found myself staring up at the side of the Australian Museum at 5.30am, and arranged my photographic equipment. Here is the result:


Then I heard that Sydney Festival were after more names for the final weekend of the event, so I put in my family's names, hoping for a better timeslot. It came back: 2.28am Sunday morning. Sigh. There was only one option: stay out all night and catch the 3am Nightride home with all the drunks. At least it didn't involve waking up early.

Sydney Festival - Week 3b (festival)

Sydney Festival
Various venues, Sydney (9-30th January, 2010)


Rogue's Gallery by Hal Willner
Sydney Opera House Forecourt (28 Jan)


I bought tix to Rogue's Gallery because the concept sounded fascinating, a retrospective, if you will, of sea shanties and ballads to warm the cockles. Besides which, Sir, my impoverished but pirate-loving flatmate, even saw sense in shelling out big bucks for this gig. And because I'd bought so frickin' many Sydney Festival tix, I was entitled to a 20% discount which saw the price drop from $140 to $116, an extra bonus.

In the lead up to the date, I then discovered how very awesome the lineup was: in addition to the unexpected but welcome appearance of actor Tim Robbins, there were stalwarts like Marianne Faithfull and Peter Garrett as well as crowd favourites Camille O'Sullivan and Sarah Blasko. It was going to be a musical bonanza.

Now, I'd retired home from work at 3-ish due to oncoming illness and general fatigue but couldn't nap cos of some inconsiderate power gardening going on outside. I give you this context because when the rain came buffeting down on us as we sat on the hard steps of the Sydney Opera House Forecourt (not a very comfortable place, mind you) I was kind of resigned to enduring the gig rather than fully embracing it.

It didn't start off well. Some artist named Baby Gramps sang some incomprehensible country-style twaddle that didn't even sound like it'd ever heard of the sea and hogged the stage for a good 10 minutes. Sir and I sighed with relief as he was replaced by Peter Garrett, best known as former Midnight Oil frontman (before his current stint as Minister for the Environment, Heritage and the Arts). Who knew that Garrett had a pirate voice? He was surprisingly good, though I thought he could've dressed more piratish to get us all in the mood.

I won't disseminate the whole gig for you but I will provide you with highlights and lowlights. On the up side was the delightful Camille O'Sullivan and Todd Rundgren, who both brought the right attitude and a bit of panache to the whole evening. Camille was wench-like in her flirtation with the audience, while Todd was suitably charismatic as a veritable captain of a ship. Their pairing on 'The Good Ship Venus' was a killer and there should have been more of that sort of thing.

Honourable mentions go to local gals Katy Steele and Sarah Blasko, whose steady, worldly voices encapsulated journeys around the world in each of their pieces. Gavin Friday and Liam Finn also impressed; Gavin especially with his filthy shanty about whores - ha! They both had the spirit of the night at the right level, giving as much to the crowd, which had already endured thunder, rain and lightning, as the crowd was pumping onto the stage.

Peaches' appearance was also suitably chaotic with a troupe of dancers in costume parading about the stage. The rest of the show would have been much livelier - colourful, rowdy - following her lead.

On the down side there was Marianne Faithfull, overhyped and underperforming in such an achingly obvious way (reading the lyrics off the song sheet, anyone?). Marry Waterson's a capella was unfortunately interrupted by the departure toot of the Diamond Princess, but it didn't excuse the fact that she sung the beautiful ballad mostly offkey. I mean, if you're going to sing a cappella, you have to be able to hit the notes, right?

David Thomas also failed to hit the right notes, growling his way through his numbers. I don't know anything about David Thomas as an artist, so I don't know if this was expected, but it just brought an unwelcome edge to the show. Look, I understand that pirates are supposed to be gruff-voiced, but you'd think you'd at least be able to hear the words.

Neither up nor down were Tim Robbins, Glenn Richards and Kami Thompson. Tim wasn't a bad singer nor guitarist, but there was no real flavour to his performances, and I can't even remember Glenn Richards being there, so unmarked was his contribution. Kami did a competent job of her part, but again, nothing of note.

Overall the show was an uneven collection of performances. If the 'shambles' were more colourful I could have forgiven it, but it seemed like two-fifths of the company were unable to muster enough energy to get into the spirit of things. I expected a bit more pluck, a bit more Peaches-like rowdiness and filthy fun songs good for a singalong. We needed this night to be rollicking and Rogue's Gallery did not provide this in the quantities required.

We came in the wind and the rain and the thunder and the lightning but the Rogues had battened down the hatches and left us with a damp show.

Gig rating: 6/10
Enjoyment rating: 7/10


Six Characters in Search of an Author by Headlong Theatre
York Theatre, Seymour Centre (30 Jan)

I'd never read Pirandello's original of this play, but the premise of characters looking for an author harks back to my cultural studies education and almost made me want to return to university. Almost.

The start is a little unsettling, setting the scene as a documentary-maker struggles to get the footage she needs to finish off a piece on euthanasia. Tempers begin to fray in the editing suite when six people dressed in black enter the scene. After much confusion, it is established that they are characters, abandoned by their author. Against her better judgement, the filmmaker allows the patriarch to tell his tale, which is then interrupted and twisted by each of the characters in turn. Things come to a head when she begins to recreate their story on film and they refuse to be recreated, insisting that they just are.

Throughout, I could see echoes of Beckett and Stoppard and this pleased me no end because I have always found discussions of existentialism most fruitful in theatre and literary demonstrations. There is also reference to 'Hamlet' - "To be or not to be" to describe the euthanasia that occurs in the doco as control over one's life, but also the "O what a rogue and peasant slave am I" soliloquy to illustrate the 'playing' metaphor - and a funny reference to the German 'Hamlet', which also played at the Sydney Festival.

It also reminded me of a Year 12 English unit I used to tutor, 'Telling the Truth'. I would give my students a reading of 'Rashomon: In a Grove' to illustrate how one event could have so many versions depending on the author of the story. The story from which the six characters derive undergoes a similar fragmentation as each brings their own attitude and bias to it, trying to bring the author, the filmmaker, onside. Everything thens twists away as the filmmaker herself becomes a character - which she is, in this play - and things go awry.

Outstanding performances by Catherine McCormack (the filmmaker) and Ian McDiarmid (the patriarch) make this production a real eye-opener of a play. Where many ensembles would make the premise seem contrived or even self-indulgent, Headlong's cast show a restraint that serves the corkscrew premise of the play well and bring everything to its poignant, razor sharp end.

I haven't seen a play that has made me think so much as this in a long while and I was surprised at the occasional bites of humour interspersed in the material. Not only did the troupe not make the mistake of taking the text too seriously, it gave complete control of meaning to the audience. Audience as author? Barthes would be proud.

Gig rating: 9/10
Enjoyment rating: 9/10

Sydney Festival - Week 3a (festival)

Sydney Festival
Various venues, Sydney (9-30th January, 2010)


Oedipus Loves You by Pan Pan Theatre
Everest Theatre, Seymour Centre (24 Jan)

I wanted to like this production, I really did. I eschewed the traditional 'Oedipus Rex' on the program for what promised to be a refreshing - even humorous - retelling of the classic Greek tragedy.

The first thing I saw when the curtain rose was a naked man, about 1.5m away from me. Curses be to the blight of the centre front row when this unexpectedly happens. The worst part was I'd been put in C row, thinking it was the third row, but apparently the theatre had done away with A and B.

Having recovered, I watched as the drama unfolded - in a very odd, haphazard way, I might add. This 'Oedipus' retelling was set in a suburban home, with all the premise of the original. But there was no majesty in Oedipus that put him at the head of a city, let alone his own household. The house seemed overrun with the activities of Antigone and Creon, who had formed a band, and the sage elderly mutterings of Tiresias.

But in the end I had no emotional connection with any of the characters. I actively disliked Jocasta and felt the others were just going through the motions that they were supposed to as scions of their Greek character namesakes. The actor who played Creon was the only one who got close to that fine balance between past character and present remodelling.

The use of video was engaging and one of the standout features of the set. It featured a camera focused on the bed and another in a studio where a video actor wrote and used objects to illustrate things further. The scene where the family go into 'therapy' was also well done, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that this was a clumsy attempt at a post-modern 'Oedipus' that failed to hit its mark.

(I could also never understand why no one thought it odd that Oedipus would marry a strange woman some 20 years his senior, mother or no.)

Gig rating: 6/10
Enjoyment rating: 6/10


Smoke & Mirrors
The Famous Spiegeltent, Hyde Park (25 Jan)

Cabaret and the Spiegeltent go hand in hand, so it was with great anticipation that my friends and I descended upon the Smoke & Mirrors performance. And iOTA took that buzz and rode it right through the show with unforgettable musical numbers (by himself and by Todd McKenney, and band) interspersed with theatrical acrobatics provided by ThisSideUp and Chelsea McGuffin and breathtaking (no, really) illusions by magician Timothy Woon.

The only thing I would question was the 'bearded lady' number by Queenie van de Zandt near the end. She is a great singer, but the fact that iOTA had already sung her song in the first half meant it was a repeat rather than a reprise. It would have been more powerful if the song were introduced earlier, but not sung in its entirety.

The crowd-pleaser was definitely ThisSideUp's 'strong man' act. What's not to like about three buff young men hamming it up on poles and showing their strength and skill? My friends all decided they had a crush on James.

One friend remarked that the show was too music-heavy. Compared to previous years' 'La Clique', which also featured physical acts such as contortionism, hula-hooping and burlesque, it was definitely music-led, but I thought iOTA did a great job turning the dark quirkiness of the circus/cabaret into song and personally hope that he will release an album of the show's tunes. I was surprised to learn he'd written everything but Todd McKenney's two vaudeville numbers so rich was the music, steeped in the murky 1920s.

Overall, the performances, the music and the costumes were spot on, so I'm not surprised the three weeks of the show sold out so quickly - otherwise I would have gone again.

Gig rating: 9/10
Enjoyment rating: 10/10


Dirty Three and Laughing Clowns
The Enmore Theatre, Enmore (26 Jan)


Other than wear green undies, seeing these two Australian bands was the only Australian thing I did on Australia Day on account of having just $7.50 to my name (I was deciding whether to buy beer or gelato but ended up with neither).

I was pretty early into the moshpit and staked out a spot about a third of the way back from the centre of the stage, sitting and reading a book (well, I was going to be standing for three hours, so had to get my sitting in), but when the lights went down it was ridiculous to leave so much room, so I ended up three rows back for Laughing Clowns.

I didn't know anything about Laughing Clowns, other than they were Australian, so I was pleasantly surprised to find myself folded into their punk-ish, rock-ish world with some really curly lyrics off their 'History of Rock ‘n’ Roll Vol. 1' album. I took particular note of drummer Jeffrey Wegener because I thought he was a genius on the kit. Seems weird to write it, but I felt he and the drums were one being. (How very Zen!). Their set was epic.

I then found out I was standing next to an acquaintance of mine, another festival junkie, so we spent the break swapping notes about other events and complaining about being on our feet, which passed the time quite nicely.

Dirty Three then swaggered onto the stage. I don't think a band that contains Warren Ellis (violinist) could possibly go anywhere without swaggering. He may possibly be a nutbag, but by god he's good on the strings. I mean, violins are meant for sweet serenading, right? They don't get angry unless it's the 1812 Overture or something. But no, there's nothing quite so expressive as a punk violin. The skill is in having the notes rip at your sensibilities without grating on your ears, and that's the beauty of Dirty Three.

Was quite amused by Mick Turner's (guitarist) comparatively placid playing next to the shenanigan that was Warren, stamping and striking his way through their 1998 album 'Ocean Songs'. (Can shenanigan be used in the singular? Never mind.)

Just as amusing were Warren's introductions to each of the pieces, for example: "This song is like that time that you had to live in a hallway for five years and you discover it's a hole. But you fill it with furniture and make it all nice with pictures. And then you think back years later and go 'geez, they were the best five years of my life'."

Simply searing - and that's not even taking into account the amount of sweat I saw and made all evening.

Gig rating: 8/10
Enjoyment rating: 7/10

Sydney Festival - Week 2 (festival)

Sydney Festival
Various venues, Sydney (9-30th January, 2010)


Jai Ho by AR Rahman
ABC TV / Parramatta Park (16 Jan)

I'd planned a public transport odyssey to Parramatta Park long before the Sydney Festival push, but a family emergency meant that I had to commute in from West Pennant Hills instead of Waverton and I wasn't likely to reach Parramatta Park before 7pm. The clincher was no services coming BACK after 10pm; without a car, I was stranded.

As a result, I ended up going to my crowd-phobic friend's place (actually, it was my Waverton flatmate who was at her parents' place in West Pennant Hills too) to watch the ABC telecast on a widescreen TV.

Jai Ho looked a colourful and well choreographed medley of hit after hit. Sir took the time to semi-translate the Hindi songs and also give me a big rundown of the musical pedigree of all the singers, plus the movies from which all the songs came, which gave the presentation solid context from which to view the spectacle.

The telecast was superb, switching focus among the musicians as well as showing shots of the crowd. On TV, the gig seemed much more intimate than the 70,000-strong audience should allow. (I feel I would have enjoyed it more by soaking up the vibe with some other friends who were there from 2pm, had I been able to go at that time, as the gate system meant if you arrived separately you'd be put in different sections.)

The colour and light of the performances, and the peaceful overtones of Rahman's songs was a poignant reminder of Indian talent, and you could not miss the friendship exuded by the troupe.

A feast for the eyes and ears, this gig seemed like a gift from Sydney Festival to the people of Western Sydney, particularly those of Indian descent, while opening the culture and the music to other Sydneysiders who may not be as familiar with Rahman.

(A side note: The chick who hosted the telecast kept pronouncing AR Rahman 'ramen' - like the Japanese noodle - when it's 'ray-mahn'. You would THINK she would learn it before mispronouncing it to the whole of Australia and some of the world...)

Gig rating: 9/10
Enjoyment rating: 7/10


Camera Obscura
Beck's Festival Bar, Hyde Park Barracks (21 Jan)

Apart from The Famous Spiegeltent, the Beck's Festival Bar is my favourite Sydney Festival venue, beating out the likes of the Domain, the Sydney Opera House, The Carriageworks and The Seymour Centre. It's a tent beside a monument that, for most of the year, is a museum. An austere building that used to house the army (and other people throughout history) could not ask for a more exciting neighbour than the marquee that brings it to life every January.

Usually, I visit the Beck's Bar twice a festival (largely because I suspect the lineup there is curated by my favourite radio station FBi, whose taste is impeccable) but unfortunately this year I missed out on Grizzly Bear tix as they were incredibly popular. So Camera Obscura was it.

The thing I love about the Beck's gigs is that they almost inevitably feature some artist you kind of know but not intimately (some exceptions, but bear with me) so it's always a gig of discovery. Supporting Camera Obscura were the Popfrenzy DJs and The Slow Club, a lively duo of folk-pop goodness that got the dancefloor bopping. Unfortunately I had neglected to change my shoes from work so had to beware the red gravel but had a good, but oh-so-short bop-along. The Slow Club were only warming up so I think this calls for a show of their own next year, don't you?

Camera Obscura were sweet and true to their indie folk pop sensibilities. The roof of the marquee was different from years before, higher and more accommodating of hundreds of rhythmic jostling bodies that were simultaneously coping with a warm summer evening. And here's the funny thing: their music glided through the night as if it were created for warm Sydney nights instead of cold Glasgow ones. The gig was thus well suited and well constructed, the right setlist of new and old, popular and more obscure songs and the right amount of intra-band banter that made them endearing.

Alas, Sir and I succumbed to old people-itis, which is when we decided our feet hurt and we needed a sit-down. The Beck's Bar is good like that, especially this year when it provided us with plenty of areas to hang out in with long comfy seats and everything.

The only two gripes I have is: this year the new marquee has commandeered the best breakout spot, under the tree at the back, as part of the VIP area; a continuing gripe is the house beer, Beck's, is $7 (or $7.50... I don't recall exactly). A bit much considering they don't import it any more. Sir and I always have the same discussion every year - surely they could sell it for $5 and really make it a Beck's night? Oh well, it was just one bottle apiece.

Gig rating: 8/10
Enjoyment rating: 7/10

Sydney Festival - Week 1 (festival)

Sydney Festival
Various venues, Sydney (9-30th January, 2010)


Barely Contained by Circus Oz
Big Top, Tumbalong Park (9 Jan)

The first thing I noticed was the fact we had Row A seats, which meant if any performer misstepped, they were probably going to hit us. No one did, of course, but we did have a close call with Tom, who ended one flip staring closely at my companion and grinning, and I did get asked by Mel whether her bum looked big in the roo costume.

There was plenty of mayhem to keep amused for 90 minutes and each set was well-constructed with a nice balance of character and skill in each segment. While Circus Oz don't have the polish or awe-inspiring acrobatics of something like Cirque du Soleil (or the budget), they certainly have a lot of humour and irreverence, which I greatly enjoyed.

The win was definitely the endearing nature of the characters constructed through performance, something bigger acts tend to forget in favour of smick costumes. The dynamic of the cast was also a joy, and for a lot of it, it felt as if the audience were incidental to a bunch of performers having fun. Definitely worth the admission price.

Show rating: 8/10
Enjoyment rating: 8/10


Festival First Night
Various venues, Sydney (9 Jan)

My evening began when I headed up to Hyde Park to see Seekae. Although I'd caught them at Peats Ridge, I felt they could really kick start the festival vibe, which they did in style via a very interesting rendition of White Town's 'Your Woman'.

After their set I made my way to Martin Place to see Jay Katz and Mountain Mocha Kilimanjaro (below), a Japanese funk band I'd only heard of that morning when FBi radio played a track and I rang in and won a copy of their album. They were incredibly tight with their set and I was impressed at how energetic they were, considering the chilled out (albeit enthusiastic) nature of the crowd. Definitely a band to follow.


I returned to Hyde Park to see Bobby Singh and friends (including Circle of Rhythm and Band of Brothers) and The Manganiyar Seduction, an Indian group of some 40-odd musicians who sing and play instruments while encased in lit boxes (that's the best way I can describe their show).

Circle of Rhythm presented a complex timbre to a flight of beats, while Band of Brothers layered that loosely-defined 'world' music onto some skilled musicality, a deep understanding between the two sets of brothers that fed a exceptional dynamic.

Manganiyar was mesmerising, simultaneously an introduction to Indian singing and music as well as a display of its finest components. The set of lit boxes worked well to, by turns, highlight individual members of the group and bring them together. I felt as if I'd fallen into a trance while listening, and yet I also believed parts of my brain awakened upon hearing the woven sounds.

I was supposed to meet a friend but she bailed because it was really hot (that's what you get when you do Bollywood dancing in full sun), so I left after that and went to eat ice cream at Passionflower, foregoing Al Green in The Domain. I heard I missed a good show.

Night rating: 8/10
Enjoyment rating: 7/10


The Arrival by Red Leap Theatre
The Carriageworks, Eveleigh (10 Jan)

I was walking down Wilson Street, very close to The Carriageworks when I saw a man who looked remarkably like illustrator Shaun Tan alight from a taxi. I've seen him a few times at festivals (Sydney Writers, Melbourne Writers and National Young Writers) so I was pretty sure it was him but I didn't want to be caught staring. (Turns out it was him; he received thanks for his book 'The Arrival' at the end of the performance and was sitting just a few rows in front of me.)

If you've never 'read' the book (it's a wordless illustrated tome, how do you describe 'reading' that?), I suggest you at least have a flick through in a book shop prior to coming to the show to get an idea on what it's about. You will thus also appreciate the exquisite sets, which pay homage to his work but also work as practical scene-changing devices.

'The Arrival', like the book of the same name, is deliberately disorientating as the audience is taken on a journey of discovery akin to that of the protagonist, a man who leaves behind his family to search for comfort in a new land. To call it theatre is a misnomer; it is as much interpretive dance and performance art as it is a play. The most wonderful aspect is that it contains just enough humour, and a balanced dose of endearing charm, to outweigh any element that seems contrived.

What really worked was the encounters the protagonist had with the land's inhabitants and the segue as they 'tell' him their story, always done in a moving, beautifully dark way. I have to commend the ensemble, whose dynamic really shined throughout. The only thing I would criticise was the recorded sound, which was occasionally overbearing, and used a tad too often.

As a mostly wordless performance, I would recommend against going with, or sitting near, a kid who asks lots of questions about what's going on, which was the unfortunate position I found myself in. At least take them through the book before you go!

Show rating: 9/10
Enjoyment rating: 8/10


The Handsome Family
The Famous Spiegeltent, Hyde Park (15 Jan)

I'd heard a couple of songs by The Handsome Family, but still didn't know what to expect when I walked into The Famous Spiegeltent with my friend Ness (who also had no idea as I'd bought her the ticket for Christmas).

Brett and Rennie Sparks delivered 90 minutes of alt-country - the 'alternative' meaning 'more than slightly disturbing in a poetic kind of way' - using electric guitar (Brett), banjo/electric bass (Rennie) and pre-recorded drums (Mac laptop).

Although Rennie's humorous introduction buttered up the audience, the gig started slowly, a little sleepily, and I was afraid I might get bored by halfway through. I was wrong. Who could ever get bored with songs about bottomless holes in the garden, snakes and whiskey, and scenes in graveyards? And better yet, Rennie's hilarious introductions to each song? "I wanted to write a song about the night sky but instead it ended up being a song about how sad convenience stores are." The banter between husband and wife also kept things fresh and kooky.

Even if you only have a passing interest in their songs, definitely try and catch a Handsome Family show because these two are two-thirds country/folk musicians and one part comedy duo.

Gig rating: 7/10
Enjoyment rating: 8/10

All Tomorrow's Parties (Festival)

All Tomorrow's Parties
Cockatoo Island, Sydney (18th January, 2009)

I want to say first up that I have no particular affinity with Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, the band that curated the line-up for the Australian ATP. However, I do put a lot of trust into the Sydney Festival and the wonderful undiscovered (by me) things that it brings. Add to the fact that I got a big fat tax return at the time the SydFest program was released last year and loved the really cool ATP graphic (shown) and I was in, never mind no one else wanted to go.

Well, I was glad I went! It was one of the most positive festival experiences I've ever had in both a musical and crowd sense. Here's the skinny:

Bridezilla: Too dark for the midday sun, but they seared with the biting intensity of having being bitten, with experience that belied their age but was perhaps made more angsty because of it. Bridezilla know how to transform their pain into an entertaining set, interpreting it for the audience so that the average listener (approiximately twice their age, by all accounts) understood and remembered what it was like to be a disturbed teenager again.

Beaches: Heavy instrumental band whose late night road trip soundtracks thud with the after effects of a big night out - both literally and musically.

Conway Savage: "Welcome to the old fart's stage," greeted Savage as a slew of punters settled into the Barracks area. Savage's key-laden poetry fashioned the afternoon into a cabaret lounge that only red wine and cigars might have enhanced. The sleepy piano suits a casual Sunday afternoon as much as a midnight on Saturday in an underground wine bar. Uptempo, he loses some magic, which he has to work to regain with the next elegy.

Afrirampo: I though listening to a band consisting of just a guitar and drums did not a compelling gig make, but I was wrong. Afri's stadium-sized sound was fun-filled, if a little discordant. True performers, the two played with, as well as to, the gathered audience. Probably one worth getting right up the front for, but worthwhile nonetheless. The thrashing pop/rock isn't everyone's cup of tea, but then again, some people only drink Coca Cola.

Dead Meadow: Dead Meadow are very much alive and well - you can find them in warbling guitars and the wispy rock 'n' roll vocals of their lead singer. The quivering waves of sound resonate with big promises of some random adventure, like a carload of hippies on the trail of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas taking tequila shots in a beat-up Chevy.

Robert Forster: Forster begins innocently enough, but his feelgood acoustic rock hooks are hard to resist. His sense of fun is infectious in a head-bobbing, toe-tapping sense. You can't be in a bad mood during his set. His sunny tunes hark back to a time less tainted by the horrors of the modern era, with a dash of contemplation thrown in.

The Necks: Chilled but not complacent, The Necks delivered a 45-minute improvisation that was three parts aural challenge, one part mellowness, arresting attention through twirling combinations of piano, drums and cello. Their sound rolls into the ear like a wave that at first seems placid but turns out to produce a roar. Sit up and pay attention or you'll miss a trick.

The Saints: The jangly guitars lay a loose foundation for the not-quite-there-but-trying-to-remember vocals. It's easy to see how The Saints made their mark in the punk era and clear how indie rock bands still borrow from them. But the deliberate off-key pitch wrapped around reminiscence of times past grows tiresome as the set wears on.

James Blood Ulmer: Went up to the Barracks expecting Passenger of Shit but a schedule change saw jazz guitarist James Blood Ulmer there instead, nimbly working his guitar and broadcasting the blues. Captivating for most there, but I just wasn't in the mood.

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds: The harsh narrative style of NC&TBS thoroughly suits their thrown-against-the-wall sound that encompasses elements of tribal beats, rock and unashamed balladeering. The music soars with energy, giving the band a full, rich sound perfectly fitting for an island-wide set of rock antics and dark lyrics. Cave's growl does grate so it takes a fan to listen all the way through without taking some time out.

Fuckbuttons: Experimental electronica is an art but, at the end of a day my tired ears were soon too tender to comprehend the scratchy rhythm after a third of their set. Away I went to the ferry wharf and home.

A word about the crowd: Everyone was extraordinarily well-behaved. There was no pushing, no drunk dancing leading to beer spillage, leading to biffs. No 'excuse me, you're in my view'. No use of yours truly as a thoroughfare (this happens often enough for me to comment on it when it doesn't happen). And there were more tattoos and piercings than I've ever seen on a crowd.

The only thing I would change is the food system. The food was expensive and not very good, in addition to the fact that ticketholders weren't allowed to bring their own picnics. The $8 for two tiny bean tacos was a rort and by the time it got to dinnertime, they'd run out most of the original menu items, but were still charging the full $9.50 for an improvised, slapped together beef pattie on a bun with pesto and about three leaves of rocket. Not good enough! Considering most people would be there for about 12 hours, it would be easy to spend $30-$40 on sub-par fare in addition to the $150 ticket already outlaid. Healthier, affordable options, or allowing picnics should be the way to go.

As testament to the good time I had, I've since bought albums from at least three of the artists I saw (and am still trying to find out where I can get something from Conway Savage) and have a new respect for Nick Cave, who I've always thought of as a wannabe rock version of Leonard Cohen. More festivals like this, please!

Festival rating: 8/10
Enjoyment rating: 9/10