WOMADelaide 2019 ~ Day 1 Musings

Botanic Park/Tainmuntilla, Fri 8 Mar.

WOMADelaide  #23. But who’s counting?! A gentle breeze blew across the park under an overcast sky as the first act on the Foundation Stage got underway. In a WOMAD first they actually started early (WOMADelaide has been incredibly punctual over the years and shows have typically begun smack on the hour.)

Amjad Ali Khan was back at WOMADelaide after a 13-year break. This time he was with his two sons and together they sat front of stage and played sarod. With the better known sitar, the sarod is a central instrument in Indian Classical music. Also joining them on stage was a stripped back version of the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra to present Khan’s Samaagam – a piece that purports to demonstrate the bond between eastern and western classical music traditions. Devoid of any wind or brass sections it is strings that assumed the major role in the orchestral parts. As the sarod is a largely plucked instrument it was curious to hear the difference between the plucking and bowing techniques of the different strings. There were times when a violinist or three played together with Khan and sons but in truth much of the piece was more about turn taking rather than playing together. A beautiful piece of music nevertheless and it was an ideal way to kick off a world music festival.

As I walked towards Stage 2, rainbow coloured people began to appear in the crowd – courtesy of the Colour Of Time, another of India’s cultural gifts to world music festivals. On Stage 2 several women from central Australia had gathered to appear as the Central Australian Aboriginal Women’s Choir. Singing songs in Western Arrarnta and Pitjanjatjara languages, and dressed in indigenous themed fabrics they looked fantastic in the fading dusk light. Though some of these songs are original pieces written by our desert peoples it is hard not to hear the Christian influence and much of their repertoire is basically hymns from the Christian tradition.

First up on the Zoo Stage for the weekend was Timberwolf. I don’t know how a local Australian artist comes to be called Timberwolf, or how the program notes could describe his music as folk. He does have a rich soulful voice but unfortunately the vocals were too loud and quite distorted. No one else seemed to care but once again the sound quality at a WOMADelaide performance was inferior to years gone by.

But things were about to get magical back on Stage 2. Yo, Carmen is a reimagining of the operatic tale of Carmen, and was a stunning spectacle in every respect. Wonderful songs from live musicians at the back of the stage provided the musical palette for a group of female flamenco dancers to strut and twirl about the stage in scenes from the opera. What a fabulously sexy phenomenon is flamenco! The dancers from Maria Pages Compania from Spain were so elegant, so dramatic, so bewitching.

(This review also published on The Clothesline.)

Two Jews Walk into a Theatre

Odeon Theatre, Thu 7 Mar.

Image courtesy of Bob Mendelsohn

You’re sitting near a total stranger. As time goes by it becomes weird not to talk so you make the tentative awkward attempt to strike up conversation. It’s trite to begin with – you talk about the time, public transport, the kids. Lots of awkward silences. Glimpses of humour emerge. You slowly begin to understand each other. Trust grows. You share more about who you are and then suddenly there’s an explosive difference of opinion.

More awkward silence. Someone tentatively reopens the conversation…..

The kind of normal scene played out all over any town thousands of times every day. But in the hands of Gideon Obarzanek and Brian Lipson it is immensely entertaining. Working within a loose framework that allows plenty of room for improvisation they share their astonishment about experimental arts, and scoff at a world with “too many options and not enough structure”.

Their Jewish identity is eventually revealed and they end up passionately talking over each other in loud disagreement in a parody of many Jewish conversations – it’s really very funny.

And then the wait is over – it’s show time. Time to watch their sons do their experimental dance which they don’t understand, nor enjoy. Movement replaces words as the means of expressing personality and it seems so free and fluid in comparison. Free of the need to talk, and unencumbered by bitter memories of a war torn past their sons float around the stage and speak with their bodies. Again awkward, ironic, but also somehow quite beautiful.

It’s a poignant contrast and a fitting conclusion to a show that manages to reconcile many seemingly opposite elements about life. L’chaim!

(This review also published on The Clothesline.)