Accidentally Like a Martyr ( a review from 2021)

 Henry Wagons Does Warren Zevon

Governor Hindmarsh Hotel, Wed 28 Apr, 2021

Many of Warren Zevon’s songs begin with an instantly recognisable and catchy hook. Such is the intro to Lawyers Guns And Money – power chords belted out with a pounding beat and a great melodic hook – and so the show began. Henry Wagons in handcuffs was a nice touch. It also provided a clue to his curious interpretation of the music and persona of Warren Zevon. The infamous Excitable Boy was next up (“He bit the usherette’s leg in the dark”) as Wagons hopped and strutted around the stage. Zevon himself typically exhibited little extravagant movement as a live performer – whether on keyboard or guitar – and it was a little disconcerting to watch these classics in new hands.

We learned that Zevon briefly studied classical music with Stravinsky and then heard a song that bore useabsolutely no clue of that tutoring – I Was In The House When The House Burned Down – but it offered evidence of his bizarre approach to lyric writing. He had a penchant for lyrics that were off centre and occasionally outrageous or shocking. The epic tale of a mercenary named Roland is a case in point. Wagons seemed to have settled into the Zevon stream by now and really nailed the vocal on Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner. He seemed more comfortable singing the lower registers in the slightly slower Zevon songs where the notes are longer and more sonorous and the melodies easier to land on. And despite these being rock songs melody was always paramount in Zevon’s material.

Two Hawaii based songs – the catchy Hula Hula Boys, and Desperadoes Under The Eaves – a song written during a period of extended isolation in a Hawaiian hotel – rounded out the first set and Wagons left the stage in handcuffs once more.

The second half began with Wagons appearing in bathrobe and towel saying he wasn’t ready but the band cajoled him into singing Johnny Strikes Up the Band anyway. I’ve always regarded this song as a brilliant example of how a band might start a gig. It was a shame that the power and appeal of this song was sacrificed to humour.

In general though, the insertion of humour made the show more enjoyable. Zevon after all was a quirky character and Wagons has every right to interpret the music and context in any way he sees fit but there were times when his lighthearted approach detracted from the gravitas of the material.

The band competently rolled out Poor Poor Pitiful Me and the aching Carmelita while Wagons finished his shower.

A quiz show involving members of the audience revealed little new info about Zevon and probably could have been omitted but some obviously enjoyed it. Using Accidentally Like A Martyr as a prop for some cheap audience engagement however just devalued the power of a truly great love song.

The show concluded with a song that Dylan recorded – The Mutineer – with Wagons on grand piano.

A really enjoyable night; Wagons and the band did a great job of reworking these classics. In terms of stage craft, it‘s so hard to get the balance right in these ‘tribute acts’. Henry Wagons is not Warren Zevon and he does a fair job of doing it his way even if a little disconcerting.

What definitely shone through however is how great these songs are; many rue the fact that so many tribute acts are hogging the play space in live music venues these days but this is another batch of material that deserves a second hearing, and the opportunity to be passed on to another generation. Warren Zevon was an extraordinary songwriter/singer who for whatever reason never got the musical headlines he warranted.

This review also published on The Clothesline.

Murray Whispers

Adelaide Ballet
ILA, Fri 15 Aug, 2025

Adelaide Ballet is a newly established dance company created to ‘fill a gap in the South Australian artistic landscape’. It has secured the Immersive Light and Art (ILA) venue as its home performance space on Hindmarsh Square. Murray Whispers is their first offering for season 2025, and it’s a stunner.

The interactive set cleverly recreates the feel of the Murray. Mist rises from the early morning river as we watch the natural world slowly waking up. Gradual stirrings in silhouette reveal creatures taking in the new day. Uncertain, careful, they gently expand into their day as the sun rises. They become the flowers, trees and animals of the riverbank. Sometimes they dance alone, sometimes joined together as one – a tree, an animal, a feeling. Guided by a gorgeous atmospheric musical score from Ashley Hribar it is at times breathtakingly beautiful. Yes mesmerising.

As the day grows longer projected scenes take us to another part of the Murray – cliffs, reeds, ancient tree trunks, rock pools – all carefully chosen to reflect the very essence of Australia’s greatest river. It was so easy to imagine yourself there sitting on the banks. The projected video images show trees and reeds swaying gently in the wind. Birds occasionally flit through the scene as dancers weave gracefully in and out of the landscape. And as the sun sets and dusk draws near we see birds returning to their homes in the trees, and our dancers slow down and once again become silhouettes in the fading light.

This reviewer lacks the credentials to assess the finer points of ballet technique but enjoyable as it was there were some minor imperfections: a few slight missteps when moving from one position to another, and an occasional lack of synchronicity with the soundtrack – but again very minor.

Tiered seating would improve the line of sight for those in the back rows – they would have missed much of the opening scene that took place at floor level. Nevertheless, a great debut offering from Adelaide Ballet that has whetted the appetite for what’s to come.

Choreography: Sarah Humeniuk and Rejane Garcia

This review also published on The Clothesline.

Adelaide's Algal Bloom

 

I have lived in Adelaide most of my life. Adelaide, like all Australian cities is on the coast - the sea is never far away. My first memory of the sea was travelling down Anzac Hwy as a kid in the family car. We used to have a competition to see who could see the sea first. ‘I can see the sea’.  ‘I can see the sea’ chants rang out from the back seat as the sea appeared as a thin sliver on the horizon.

 

The sea has always been synonymous with joy in my life: a place that meant fun, a celebration, coolness after a swim. My Adelaide beach has featured at every stage of my life: a place to make out with your teenage girlfriend,  to work on that suntan, do some exercise, lie in the shallows, collect sea creatures, watch the sunset, enjoy a leisurely stroll, and in later life simply a place to enjoy the natural beauty and a sense of peace.

 

Apart from early evenings on hot summer days Adelaide beaches are rarely crowded. They stretch from Port Noarlunga in the South to North Haven - some 30 to 40 kilometres. Fine, silky sand as good as you'll find anywhere in the world. Above all a place of respite and regeneration. You notice that people are rarely badly behaved at the beach. The sense of space and wind and the nature of the salt air seems to bring out the best in people. 

In January this year (2025) there were reports of people feeling sick after swimming in the waters of the southern Fleurieu. It was attributed to something called an algal bloom. This bloom slowly worked its way around to St Vincent's Gulf and by June had breached the entire Adelaide coastline. Dead marine life started appearing on our beaches: stingrays, sharks, seahorses, crabs, puffer fish... . the number of carcasses multiplied. Our beloved beaches had become places of death. Like an underwater bushfire the algal bloom wiped out most of the gulf's marine life. A place I had turned to all my life for peace and quiet became a constant horror show.

 

I can no longer walk along my beaches. I can walk near the sea as long as I can't see the dead creatures washed up on the sand. To walk along the sand now breaks my heart. Adelaide, the city between the hills and the sea, is now the city between the hills and a marine graveyard. People no longer go fishing or crabbing. My son can no longer go for his daily ‘sanity swim’. Thousands of Adelaideans now have to look elsewhere for that respite and regeneration.

 

Climate change has come home to roost on our doorstep with a vengeance. The warnings of environmental disaster have been clear and persistent for 50 years and we have done little to address the crisis.

 

For decades fruit growers and agriculturists have been using various chemicals and fertilisers to boost production in the fields and orchards alongside the Murray River.  In 2023 record floods along the Murray washed thousands of megalitres of river water into the sea at the Murray mouth. Occasionally in recent years our gulf waters have heated up sufficiently to prompt the onset of small algal blooms. A particularly long dry winter in 2024 didn't allow the gulf waters to cool and when that warmer water mixed with the tainted river water from the Murray the perfect conditions for the creation and spread of the algal bloom were present. So we now have this environmental disaster on our doorstep. The sea still sometimes looks gorgeous and blue and inviting from a distance but it is devoid of marine life. We have killed all our fish.

The Shock of the New

The Shock of the New takes a look back at pivotal moments in South Australian theatre from 1962 – 2014. Conceived and performed by graduating students from the Bachelor of Performance at Flinders University in conjunction with Director Chris Drummond, this was simply a great idea. What better way to present a broad sweep of our recent local theatre, enhance its credibility, and pay homage to the actors and directors involved.

In a pointer perhaps as to what was to follow, the standard welcome to country inserted an acknowledgement of indigenous storytellers.

The pivotal theatrical moments presented were taken from twelve different productions from various theatre groups – amateur and professional. This presents some challenges. Any such list is going to generate spirited discussion about why such and such a scene or play was included or why others were left out. And how could you possibly ignore the work of theatre group X or theatre group Y? (There were indeed some notable theatre groups that did not make the cut.)

As the show progressed it became clear that certain themes were chosen to guide the selection of content. There was a preponderance of scenes referencing sexuality, and distrust of authority and prevailing middle-class mores featured prominently. A Trumper might in fact characterize the whole show as ‘woke.’ But it begs the question, ‘what is the point of theatre?’ The cast and crew of The Shock of the New rightly see theatre as a crucial agent of change; a vehicle that should reflect minority perspectives, and question mainstream values.

Another inherent challenge here was the lack of opportunity for any in-depth character development.  Cast members occasionally had to launch themselves into parts laden with intense emotion out of the blue as it were, with no chance to become comfortable with the role and context over time as happens when a whole play is presented and an actor is able to inhabit the part before having to explode with emotion. That said, the cast did a remarkable job of conveying emotion and authenticity in the many and varied chosen scenes.

Visually this show was often quite stunning. Bold single colours projected on the back wall of the stage often contrasted with silhouetted characters to wonderful effect. Narrations of background events provided relevant context between each scene and reflected something of the world view of the collective cast as well as allowing scene changes to be virtually imperceptible. The flow from one scene to the next was impeccable.

Performances from the principal cast were uniformly even and convincing, but there were highlights that stood out. Isiah Macaspac’s portrayal of a female character in Troupe Theatre’s Cloud 9 was exceptional, and Ariel Dzino’s crazy bride and temptress from The Ecstatic Bible was deeply moving. As was indeed this entire scene of people in chains scared to death – epitomized eloquently in a powerful cameo from Alexander Karytinos.

In the penultimate scene a fish falls from the sky (from When the Rain Stops Falling), and as any Adelaide resident who’s aware of the environmental catastrophe unfolding in our coastal waters at the moment might be, I was stricken by grief. It was so bizarrely, profoundly, prophetic and unsettling.

Bravo to all involved with this ambitious and successful production. Fast-paced, never dull, moving, laced with variety – an excellent expose of the more significant social issues of the last 50 years through the lens of local theatre. And an optimistic indicator that there is a reservoir of young talent ready to steward local theatre through the challenges of the next 50!

This review also published on The Clothesline.

Five Days in Berlin

Green van in the shadows for quick pick-up

Hearty tasty soup offered warmly

Comfort in a matching bed

Coffee ready to go

For a warm morning welcome kitchen

Newspapers and easy chat

Own key for easy escape            

To verdant forests everywhere

Left-handed guitar sought and found

For entry to another world

Of a stranger’s special occasion

Dance and theatre in celebration

Soccer with the young and a solemn visitation

Dinner and airport drop-off

Green van recedes back to the forest.