Boomers' Legacy

OK. I’m going to write this rather than talk it. In truth, I wasn’t a big fan of Stairway to Heaven. In fact the song drove me nuts. As a guitarist and busker I was asked hundreds of times if I knew how to play it but I never learned it. But the version of this song in this concert is a stunner. Nor was I a great fan of Led Zeppelin after their early years. Like many bands their best came early on and they never quite reproduced the edge of their early stuff. So the reference to Led Zeppelin being the ‘wind beneath the wings of a generation’ was really using them as a metaphor for all the music that served that function. It could have been The Who, Stones, Beatles, Animals, Hendrix, etc – it was the collective impact of new rock that sustained the cultural change.

What of that change? Yes there were early utopian claims that the Age of Aquarius would herald the age of peace and equality, but it clearly didn’t happen. So what did change? It definitely drove a wedge between mine and my parents’ generation. By the time I was 20 I was living a life that was eons apart from theirs. The outward expression of this gulf was our appearance. We let our hair grow, wore daggy or weird clothes, stopped going to church and moved in to shared houses. Youth embraced a new freedom that was missing in previous decades, and the stifling tyranny of the family unit was broken. And rock music was our music, our mouthpiece. It’s not just the music that did it – it was a mix of many things – but the music was the outward expression of liberty that youth had discovered.

The legacy of this time can still be seen in a myriad of things:

·         It is now for example quite OK to go to a fancy theatre in jeans and a t-shirt. Or the CBD. Or anywhere. This breaking down of a strict uniformity of dress code for all began in the late 60s.

·         It began a globalisation of the world. People like Dylan helped people realise that struggles were the same the world over.

·         Young people started to travel – roaming far away countries for months on end.

·         People began to live together out of wedlock en masse and eventually wore down the importance of the institution of marriage.

·         Mainstream religion suffered a massive downturn in appeal. People began to look elsewhere – Buddhism, meditation, Eastern religions generally – for spiritual sustenance.

·         Communities based on very different values like Nimbin and others on the northern coast of NSW began to spring up all over the world. Many dropped out of a mainstream society that no longer met their needs.

·         Many more people began to take drugs and had their consciousness altered. There were plenty of casualties but no one who takes mind altering drugs can ever look at the world the same way again.

·         It did liberate women to some extent. Divorce became socially acceptable and single parents received social security to enable them to live a life free of abusive partners.

None of these things are final. They are processes of cultural change that are still evolving. It’s interesting to think about whether the Boomers created these changes, or whether they happened to them. It’s probably both. Things were changing rapidly, and they were the agents of change.

The fact is that between 1965 and 1975 the Western world changed dramatically. And behind it was this music, these anthems advertising and extolling another life and other values. The music you listen to in your teens and twenties is typically the music that stays with you forever. It is the music that was playing when you were becoming adult and working out who you were and what you believed, and it is woven into your DNA. It provokes deep emotion whenever you hear it. So I understand too well what Robert Plant was feeling as he listened to his song in that concert. Quite frequently, without warning, I’ll be listening to music of that time and tears will come. Tears for the memories, the intense emotions of love and love lost and youth and freedom and good times, for the people who have gone or who got lost along the way. And because these people who inspired us with their anthems of an incredibly exciting time are dying. Every time I see a musician from that time I am acutely aware that it is probably the last time I’ll see them.

We’re still left with a world of wonder and turmoil.

Perhaps the part of the legacy of the 60s and 70s I value above all else is the fact that I am friends with my adult children in a way that was impossible when I was 20. The world had changed too much and too fast for me and my parents to be anything but polite strangers. They simply had no clue who their children were anymore. So I, and many of my generation (Leigh’s going to tell me something different!) made sure as parents that we would never be strangers to our children; that we would never impose on them values that were not theirs. I am friends with my children, and the generation/cultural gap is small. But that is my life….. J  

"This Music Won't Last"

Sometime during my teen years I was watching rock/pop music on TV and my mother, a classically trained singer and pianist, assured me this music would never last. It was her way of telling me that she thought the music of little value and that I’d be better off spending my leisure time on other things. We often debated this question. I remember another day when I again was watching TV in the lounge and she came through from the kitchen asking ‘who is that with the beautiful speaking voice’? She was shocked to see a long haired, bearded and bizarre character speaking. It was in fact Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull.

I don’t remember really having any sense of belief at the time that the music I loved would last. As I grew older I learned that the pop/rock music of the 60s and 70s represented a radical change from what had gone before, both in terms of sound – they’re had been nothing like it – and the cultural values held by many of its exponents. Long hair and outrageous appearance and on and off stage behaviour was par for the course. As a teenager and early 20 something I was proud that I was part of a new generation that had at least in some sense changed the world. And it satisfied my natural tendency towards rebellion and rejection of my parents’ and mainstream values.

Last night a Facebook friend (who is incidentally also a good friend in ‘real’ life) posted a link to a video from a memorial concert in honour of the pioneer rock band, Led Zeppelin. The video featured a live performance of Stairway to Heaven by Ann and Nancy Wilson. Complete with choir and orchestra I really enjoyed this superb version of ‘Stairway’. But what moved me more was watching the reaction of three of the original members of Led Zeppelin – Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, and John Paul Jones. Once wild men of rock they were seated in the audience dressed in suits and had it seemed turned into thoroughly respectable old men.

Robert Plant seemed stunned at what he was witnessing. His eyes welled up with tears, and he stared at the performance happening on stage with a kind of ‘what have I done? what did I do?’ expression. But in a positive sense. It was as if he was realising for the first time the beauty and the power of the song he and Jimmy Page had created 44 years earlier. So Stairway to Heaven has lasted and has been enriched and transformed by a new generation of musicians. (John Bonham’s son played drums in this performance.)

My own eyes began to well up as I watched and listened to this wonderful rendition of ‘Stairway’ until I was finally quite simply crying. Crying In support of Robert Plant. As my wife commented I just want to give him a hug. Crying too because I remembered that comment of my mother’s all those years ago and I realised, if I hadn’t before, that the music of my generation has been validated. We weren’t just listening to a passing fad or an aberration in the history of music. We had been part of huge and powerful cultural change that has left an indelible stamp on the world. It did have value.

You could scoff and bemoan the fact I guess that the Led Zap boys are now respectable senior members of the community and wear suits – Robert Plant often performed bare chested for heaven’s sake – but they are no longer wild and provocative young men. They don’t need to be. They, and many of their peers, created music that was the wind beneath the wings of a generation and it is clear now that much of it will outlast them and the generation that is growing old with them.

I felt proud watching this performance that I had made the choices I had, that I had listened to this ‘devil music’ from an early age and I want to believe now that I knew instinctively all those years ago that something huge was happening, and that our music had value. It’s a big call but it felt like it validated much of my life and who I am.

For another example of how another wild man of rock has become part of the musical establishment watch Ian Anderson singing Wondering Aloud with a chamber orchestra.

You were wrong Mum.

ADDENDUM (3/2/24)

I have been reading Bob Spitz’s account of the Led Zeppelin story, and I have read things there that make me question everything I ever felt about them, and what I wrote above. We all know that the groupie phenomenon was part of the rock star lifestyle, and we have all heard tales of exploitation of women that don’t sit comfortably with more recent standards. But the disgusting depravity and debauchery of Led Zeppelin was beyond the pale. And the bullying methods employed by their manager against journalists, other bands, musicians, promoters, and bootleggers was nothing short of underworld thuggery. Violence and intimidation were his standard tools.

A very very seedy tale - there were seeds of evil within the Led Zeppelin camp – and right now I’m feeling they did not deserve their success. 

Frisky and Mannish - Adelaide Cabaret Festival

Taken by Rosie Collins

What a ride! Roaming spotlights playing over audience and stage at the start of the show suggested we were in for something big! Looking positively glamorous in gold, Frisky and Mannish enter the stage to form a beautiful tableau, and that was about their only serious moment. Everything about this show is over the top. I’m tempted to tag them the greatest hams in the history of show business. But this is a good thing.

Promoting themselves as a bridge between pop and cabaret they set about demolishing everything you may hold dear about either genre in a fast paced, tightly scripted and hilarious send up of a long list of songs and their performers. We learn that most pop singers (except for Katy Perry and her paean to plastic bags) don’t write their own material, and in fact 81% of all popular songs are written by the Bee Gees!! We learn too that Sinead O’Connor wrote way more letters of advice than just the famous one to Miley Cyrus.

There are so many really funny moments. A medley of songs revised for the Internet age inserts Google, tweets, and Facebook into the lyrics of famous songs. “I still haven’t found what I’m googling for.” (U2) A collection of Australian songs reveals their take on the Australian psyche, and a fast and furious trawl through candidates for a feminist anthem is priceless.

And just in case you might think they take themselves seriously, once they’ve finished taking aim at everyone else they turn the blowtorch on themselves.

This superb dismantling of popular culture is all done via bits of well-known songs with altered lyrics, and some of the funniest singing I’ve ever heard. They can make the most beautiful song sound ridiculous, and the most inane pieces sound like works of high art.
Outstanding performers; great writers. They try towards the end to take things seriously again for a minute but it lasts about 30 seconds before their wonderfully weird and demonic selves resume control. They close with a love song to us and all humanity but we know they don’t believe a word of it! Sensational.

(Also published on The Clothesline.)

WHAT TO DO WITH BIRTHDAYS ON FACEBOOK?

For the last 2 years I have faithfully responded to each and every Facebook birthday greeting received. This year I decided I wouldn’t. I like one friend’s somewhat cynical approach to this issue. The day before their birthday they posted: “To all my FB friends who will inevitably wish me happy birthday tomorrow – thanks in advance!” I contemplated changing my settings so my birthday wasn’t visible but of course I forgot.

On the other side of this FB birthday greeting equation I am unequivocal. I resent FB telling me that some friend or colleague is having a birthday. There’s a momentary pang of guilt as I choose to ignore that person’s birthday ie not send them a greeting. And what about all those I do know quite well, and care about, but if it weren’t for FB’s auto notifications, I would never know it was their birthday - what do I do on their birthdays? I usually ignore them too. And there are those who are really close and whose birthdays I probably know without FB’s help. (My mother used to keep a book for such information – it contained nothing more than a list of people’s birthdays that she wanted to acknowledge.) I might contact some of these close friends/family on their birthdays, or if I only remembered because of FB write something like, “FB tells me it’s your birthday…..” I’m just not comfortable claiming credit for remembering someone’s birthday when I actually didn’t! I know – I should probably get over it. Many others obviously have.

And the thing is I love receiving these greetings from around the world for that 24 hour period once a year. It’s a real buzz, even if most of those greetings would not have been sent if FB hadn’t displayed my birthday in your morning newsfeed. So to all those who did send me birthday greetings - thank you! I appreciate it. However, I have 400 + friends on FB apparently, and received about 70 birthday greetings. So what’s with you other 300?? Don’t care enough about me? Too lazy? Or maybe you’re a bit like me and you resent being prodded like a Pavlovian dog and decide you can handle the guilt of ignoring me, or some distant colleague, or long lost family member. You never needed to know my birthday before (nor I yours), and we all got on fine. And there’s the rub with FB. Where’s the limit? We know so much now about other people’s lives that in times past we never knew. And it was fine that we never knew. Wasn’t it?

Anyway, come May 26^th 2016 I hope many of you ignore my reservations about all this and wish me well. And happy birthday to you for whenever yours may be :)

River - Fringe Review

Bakehouse Theatre’s Studio, Mon Feb 23

River is a loner, but she has crafted a busy enough life for herself.  She frequents a quiet caféteria where she can be alone unnoticed. She has become something of a Google expert, specialising in writing “googlet’ poems based on what Google’s auto-complete function provides when you search for things. She sells self-made aluminium shapes at a weekend market. Her job doesn’t require her to talk to anyone, but she gets some joy from the human contact shared with her colleagues over packets of Arnotts cream biscuits. She relates the minutiae of her daily life in a way that is both touching and tedious.

Her luck begins to turn when she makes the acquaintance of Harry, an aged widower who frequents the same caféteria and is looking for company.

Claire Lovering, the writer and performer of this one person show, has obviously spent a lot of time observing the old and lonely. There is a pathos in the details that her character shares with us, as we slowly learn that her whole life is based on masking the fact that she is alone. And Lovering does an excellent job of portraying this not quite sad and quirky character who is self-conscious, unsure, and excited by little things like chip sandwiches. Her friendship with Harry is short lived but he is the link in a chain that ultimately provides her with a new life where her warmth and care for others can be put to good use.

There’s a simplicity and a charm to this production that grows on you. It’s a poignant reminder that there are many who find it difficult to fit in. They want to be with people but they just don’t know how to do it. Happily in this case a lucky break helps a loner find their niche.

Left unsaid is the fact that many who are alone are not so lucky….

Quite moving in the end. It may well bring a tear of joy and/or sadness.

(also published on The Clothesline)

Meow Meow - Superb Cabaret

Royal Croquet Club’s Menagerie, Sun Feb 22

Meow Meow was a late entry into this year’s Fringe so you won’t find mention of her in the printed program. But do yourself a favour and find you way to The Menagerie at the Royal Croquet Club to see this superstar of cabaret.

I don’t normally borrow catch phrases from the reviews of others but ‘kamikaze cabaret’ is such an apt description of what she does. From the moment she involves the audience in making her opening entrance more spectacular you know you’re in for something different. Nothing is straightforward. Arranging the show as she goes – telling the tech crew to change the lighting, suggesting wardrobe changes for her accompanying pianist and drummer, getting the audience involved in ways you’ve never imagined – contributes to an edge of anticipation that keeps everyone on their toes.

Having played in some of the more prestigious venues around the planet she has a lot of fun making a mockery of ending up ‘in a tent on a roundabout’, and “having to do everything herself”. Like bringing her own dry ice blower! And her stand-in for when she needs a break is pretty impressive too. In short, Meow Meow is hilarious.

And if that isn’t enough she can sing like a bird, like a diva, like a child or a saddened lover… in multiple languages! To boot, most of her songs are her own original material. And she looked fantastic. Meow Meow is the complete package.

Superb comic timing, brilliant audience engagement, wonderful singer – a gifted performer who exemplifies the best of what cabaret can offer.

(also online on The Clothesline)

Dave Hughes at the Adelaide Fringe

The Garden Of Unearthly Delights’ Vagabond, Fri Feb 20

It seems a bit superfluous reviewing a Dave Hughes gig. He’s been around the Australian comedy scene a long time and just about everyone knows him. He’s looking good, and even though he has children in kindergarten there are a few grey hairs – something we learn his wife isn’t too rapt about!

He wasted no time tapping into the lives of people in the front row, and a steady stream of latecomers gave him plenty to work with for the first 20 minutes. All those who came late were offered the opportunity to say why they were late and who they blamed! And with the skill of a seasoned veteran he turned episodes of his last few weeks into funny stories that took pot shots at airlines, One Direction fans, and casual meetings with people around Adelaide.

The predictable blokey segment featured cricket tales, the rivalry between the local AFL football teams, his beloved Carlton, and drug-taking swimmers. Lots of jokes about being a dad and his relationship with his wife came next. Anyone who’s had kids can relate to the difficulties of finding time for ‘amorous action’. Clearly the Hughes household, with three children aged five and under (who Hughes refers to as the fun police) is a busy place and adult time is hard to come by, but it’s also a great source of comic material.

Unlike many interstate comedians who seem to deem it mandatory to bag Adelaide, he went the other way and kept telling us how much he liked it. An inside account of what it was like to work on Channel 10’s The Project was entertaining, as were his reasons for leaving the show.

Dave Hughes is a fine comedian. Refreshingly self-deprecating, much of his humour stems from his honesty about his shortcomings, and he appears to genuinely enjoy his work. He told us of course that we were the best audience he’d ever had. We liked hearing it, though we didn’t believe him for a minute. It was a good crowd though. The Vagabond was packed, and most of us were laughing most of the time.

Really enjoyable.

(Also published on The Clothesline)

Philip Escoffey - Mentalist

Six Impossible Things Before Dinner

The Garden Of Unearthly Delights’ Umbrella Revolution, Tue Feb 17

The art of mentalism continues to be a regular feature on the Adelaide Fringe program, and Phillip Escoffey is back again after a hugely successful run at the 2011 Fringe. And if tonight’s show is any indication he’ll repeat the success this time around. And he deserves nothing less.

Escoffey is a consummate performer. Not only he dazzle his audience with an astounding array of mentalist ‘tricks’, but he also provides a humorous running commentary that is the equal of many A-list comedians. It all adds up to an immensely enjoyable experience.

As these kinds of shows dictate, the audience is a key part of the action. The appeal of a mentalist performance is watching them work out what the chosen members of the audience are thinking – what numbers they choose, which card, which seat, which page of a dictionary – all quite trivial details in the overall scheme of things. But what is far from trivial is how mentalists seem able to either guess what we’re thinking, or use some process of thought transfer to influence our choices.

At regular intervals Escoffey decries the notion that he’s psychic. So how can he know which card you’d pick from a closed deck of cards? Can he read minds? Put thoughts into your head? Or he is simply a clever and manipulative cheat? Or is it a combination of all of these?

A hilarious send up of Tarot card readers is priceless, and then is nonchantly followed up with a stunt where it appears that he is indeed able to predict the future!

So how can he so accurately predict what we are thinking? And do we need to know? Quoting Douglas Adams Escoffey asks: “Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful……?” For me it is. For others, this show will be the start of long conversation about whether he is indeed psychic or just a conman. The answer is far from clear.

It’s wonderful to have your preconceptions about reality profoundly challenged on your average night out ;)  Escoffey is an extraordinary talent. You will have a ball. Fantastic entertainment. World class.

(also published on The Clothesline)

Stuart Bowden – Before Us

Tuxedo Cat’s Perske Pavilion, Sun Feb 16

Just about everything Stuart Bowden does in Before Us is inappropriate. Not in any shocking way, or in any way that is embarrassing. Quite the opposite – it’s actually quite endearing. His costume, his dancing, a lot of his singing, the almost stream of consciousness monologue – all inappropriate. And the interesting thing is that when you string together a series of inappropriate activities you kind of get a new genre that is unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

Bowden enjoys talking about death, and this show is loosely built around the story of his father’s death, and our own mortality. Using live looped audio as a backdrop to his strange tales Bowden speaks for all those who have ever felt insecure or vulnerable; for all those who’ve contemplated the big questions about being alive. And dead. Like who were my parents? Why I am here?

He has a charming knack of using apparent nonsense to get us thinking and feeling more deeply about life. It was interesting to notice how the audience moved from behaving like they were at just another comedy show laughing and giggling at every weird quirk or throwaway line, to realising that that there was something deeper going on that was more enjoyable and more meaningful than just cheap laughs.

By then his naive charm and sense of magic had the audience under his spell and you felt the connection between the absurd and the profound, the beautiful and the mysterious - to the point where we were all quite prepared to join in the marvellous final scene and celebrate being alive!

Do something completely different this Fringe and surrender to Stuart Bowden’s spell of weirdness. You will laugh. You may even cry. But you will leave feeling better about life. This play is just a joy.

Star Rating: 4.5

(also published on The Clothesline)

Mush and Me

Mush and Me – Karla Chrome
Holden St Theatres’ The Arch, Sat Feb 14

Mush and Me was handpicked by Holden St Theatres to be part of their 2015 Fringe program, and it’s easy to see why. Gabby and Mush(taq) meet on neutral ground in an English call centre. The company’s star performers in telephone sales are drawn to each other as they observe each other in action. Their good natured competitive relationship quickly becomes social and despite the cultural and religious gap between them they find themselves falling love. 

Provoking and challenging each other about the foolishness of their respective beliefs just brings them closer, and the time arrives when they have to confront whether to announce their romance with their families. The scene that has both of them coming out to their families simultaneously is beautifully crafted. 

The difficulties of their cross-cultural relationship are a microcosm of what divides Arabic and Jewish culture. No matter how great their affection for each other layers of past hurt and suspicion complicate their present. ‘Enough of the past” Mush cries out to his mother - desperate for her to understand that not all Jews are wicked.

The obvious attraction between to the two protagonists is beautifully played by Daniella Isaacs  and Jaz Deol, and moments of passionate disagreement and anger typical of Middle Eastern discourse about ‘the problem’ are equally powerful.

A simple and effective set of white shelves displaying icons of both Muslim and Jewish culture are manoeuvred around the stage to accommodate the call centre, a bar, a hospital and lounge room, and at times has both actors pushing shelves together in the dark during scene changes that is neatly symbolic of them growing closer together.

Given the state of the world and the role of their respective cultures in global politics, this is a timely offering. We can enjoy the fact that at least two people have decided to ditch the hatred and pain of the past between their peoples and focus on their mutual love in the present. But we are left with no illusion that it will be an easy road for them.

A great play – excellent writing, well-paced, striking delivery and smart direction.

(Also published on The Clothesline)

The Searchers

The Searchers
Her Majesty’s Theatre, Fri Feb 6

The Searchers’ concert was always going to be a walk down memory lane. First formed in 1959 and responsible for a half dozen or so mega hits in the Sixties, The Searchers are still performing to packed houses around the world fifty-five years on. The two remaining original Searchers, Frank Allen and John McNally are in their 70’s. That puts them in the elite category of veteran pop/rock stars who are still performing in the same band decades after they began. Another band that comes to mind in the same category and who also graced Australia’s shores recently are of course the Rolling Stones. But that’s about where the similarity ends.

The Searchers represent the state of pop/rock music before the likes of The Beatles and The Rolling Stones turned it and the rest of the world on its head. Neat, suited, and conservative, they stand and deliver that same engaging brand of poppy tune that catapulted them to pop fame, and in pretty much the same way. Not much rocking or wild cavorting around the stage here – just standing and delivering. And that is entirely appropriate for their style of music.

They play all their hits – the biggest of which arguably were Love Potion No 9 and Needles and Pins – and they still sound brilliant. There was also Walk in the Room, an acknowledged classic originally written and recorded by Jackie DeShannon but driven to international fame via The Searchers’ version. A curious thing about The Searchers is they didn’t write any of these songs. Occasionally songs were written for them, but most of their success came from songs written or recorded by others before The Searchers turned them into hits. And as good as these songs are there are probably around 6-8 gems all up. So the playlist for their two hour concert includes many cover tunes. Del Shannon’s Runaway, Buddy Holly’s (apparently spontaneous) Peggy Sue were obvious choices from their era. A kind of reverse acknowledgment of The Byrds and the role they played in preserving The Searchers’ legacy for another decade or so was the reason for the inclusion of Mr Tambourine Man. (The now famous signature ‘jingle jangle’ guitar tone of The Byrds was first created by John McNally, and The Byrds always acknowledged their debt to The Searchers as their own fame grew.)

A few numbers were clearly included to highlight and exploit the lovely voice of Spencer James – Roy Orbison’s Runnin’ Scared, Neil Sedaka’s Solitaire, and Bette Midler’s The Rose. But the inclusion of Young Girl, originally recorded by Gary Puckett and The Union Gap had me puzzled. I loved it when I was a child, but these days it has a few unfortunate undertones.

The voices of the two original Searchers are still in fine fettle. Sadly though there was a muddy tone to the mix much of the evening with the vocals too far down in the mix and for a band whose songs depend on multiple vocal parts this was really disappointing. Ironically the time when the three singers could be heard most clearly was not on a Searchers song – they sounded clear and pitch perfect as they sang The Rose.

Bass player Frank Allen chatted to the audience throughout the show, filling in bits and pieces of the band’s history, and explaining why each song was chosen. Audiences really appreciate this thoughtful kind of communication. But I found the constant jokes about aging, illness, dementia, etc a bit tiresome. As I’m a way short of 70 maybe it’s something I need to grow into (!) but I’d be pretty sure the Stones weren’t cracking jokes about nursing homes and dementia on their recent tour.

Still, it was great to see, be present, and hear live The Searchers’ contribution to the legacy of pop music. It’s a phenomenal achievement to be still doing live shows after 50 years. Testament to their importance in the history of pop is the fact that several Searchers songs will be remembered long after they finally hang up their guitars. An enjoyable night.

Also published at The Clothesline

Life After Work

About 7 months ago  I left the organisation I had worked with for 25 years. I turned 60 two months later. Until late last year (2013) I had assumed I would continue working in that job until around 65. But things moved rapidly and 6 months later I was unemployed. I chose to leave. I did not retire. Between jobs as they say. And I learnt a great deal very quickly about myself and life.

Initially, for a brief time, the freedom of being unattached was intoxicating. The intoxication was slowly replaced with a far more sober reality that took me a few months to work through. What follows is in no sense of regret. I'm glad I left my job. But realisation #1 was I MISSED THAT JOB! In truth this was no great surprise. I had often told people I had one of the best jobs of anyone I knew. But it had reached a point where I could no longer work for my employer with a clear conscience.

Realisation #2 - my world shrunk. I had a reasonably high profile job that meant that I was in contact with a lot of people in the average week - via email, phone, or face to face conversations or meetings. I'd guess around 50-80 people each week. When I stopped working I had contact with less than 10 people a week. My job was also quite mobile. I would routinely visit several locations a week across the whole city. In the weeks after I quit my job this often was reduced to 'the shops' , and nothing else. Many many fewer people and many fewer locations. My world had shrunk quite drastically.

Realisation #3 - hobbies were no longer hobbies! I have never had a problem filling in my time. Throughout my working life I had to squeeze in music, gardening, travelling, sport, theatre, writing, walking, photography, technology. ....Mostly I did manage to fit these extra-curricular activities into a busy and full life. Now subtract the job. You'd think I'd be rapt to have all this extra time to enjoy these other pastimes. And initially I did. But you see, like I said, I hadn't  retired. I wanted to keep working - I just wasn't sure what it was I wanted to do. So something unexpected happened to my hobbies. They stopped being something I did in my spare time, and became the things I did! And, consequently I began to see each one of them as a potential job, or at least a money earning activity. So... I should practice this guitar piece more, or I should take this more seriously, or I spend so much time doing this I need to work out how to turn it into a part time job, etc. Nothing was purely for pleasure anymore. Things I had enjoyed doing for decades whenever I could fit them in had become weighed down with a sense of responsibility. Quite sad, and all in my own head I realise, but that's what happened.

Realisation #4 (and perhaps the most important of them all) - I had become a creature governed by the recurring rhythms of terms and semesters and holidays - all with their own annual reliability. Always a few weeks holidays at the same times each year. But one always worked in May. I worked in education, and really had no idea how much I had become a creature of its annual cycles. I have always worked hard. But there was always a break just 10 weeks away even if you didn't take it. But psychologically it was there and you could take it if you wanted or needed it. Go  away for a couple of weeks at the end of September if you wanted. And you knew when these breaks were years ahead so you could plan to travel at a set time. Or again, if you felt like making a snap last minute decision to go somewhere there was no stressing about when you might go - that was already decided for you by the pre-ordained holiday dates. But now you're between jobs. What if you decided to take a week off or  book a flight to somewhere and someone offers you work at that time?

The longest break you get in the education world is 5, maybe 6 weeks. (Yes I know much longer than most get but that's another story...). So about  6-8 weeks after I left my job I was ready to work again. 25 years of conditioning had unknowingly  turned  me into this creature who needed to work because I'd had a 6 week break.

Realisation #5 - my identity was intimately connected with my job. I began to feel like I didn't matter so much; that I was less significant than before. I wanted to work and couldn't. I looked longingly at people who had jobs - any job - and thought how lucky they were! I wasn't as important to myself anymore either because I was getting no validation from others that I was doing something worthwhile for them. No pats on the back; no requests to help out with various tasks; to address a meeting; to join a team for a temporary project. Very few people were asking me to do anything. There was no expectation that I would do anything. So all  the  motivation to keep abreast of current practice, look for work, maintain contacts with your persona l learning network had to come from within. Only intrinsic motivation was left to keep you moving. All those people you saw in the average week of your working life had moved on and no longer required your assistance.

Realisation #6 - I was not as self-contained as I thought I was. I needed the company and recognition of others to keep me performing. I'd had it for so long I had ceased to recognise its importance in my life. I thought I was driving myself along kind of under my own steam and that was far from the whole story!

Realisation #7 -no matter what you say people will consider you  'retired.' And assume you are loving all the extra spare time and having a ball. But (back to realisation #5) I only enjoy spare time if I've worked really hard and feel like I've earned it. But it won't a matter a toss to others - they will consider you retired.

Realisation #8. Actually this is more of an assumption than a realisation, and it may not be entirely accurate. I assume that people who plan to retire, and who have known for some time when they will stop working, would not go through all the angst that I have experienced  these last 7 months. They would be planning what they  were going to do and anticipating with great pleasure a time when they can realise their post work dreams. When post work life is upon you suddenly it is an entirely different ball game. I now have a greater appreciation for what those who are suddenly made unemployed must feel.

Today

I have found bits and pieces of part time work that I am enjoying and this has helped me establish a new rhythm of life. I accept that I have to make things happen on my own, and that I can't rely on the inbuilt supports (people, activities, projects) that a long term job provides. And I am now feeling like I'm ready to take on something new - whatever it may be.

Joan Armatrading in Adelaide

Apologies for the blur. I was interrupted by 'security' as I was taking
the shot (no pix allowed) and was not allowed to reshoot.

Joan Armatrading

The Gov, Sun Dec 7

Joan Armatrading burst on to the music scene in the mid seventies as a black woman who didn't sound like a typical black singer. She had a unique sense of melody and phrasing that was all her own. Born in the West Indies, she moved to Birmingham in the UK at the age of 7. I, like millions of others, was smitten by her self-titled breakthrough album in 1976, and after her performance at The Gov here in Adelaide, I'm still smitten.

Her music crosses an extraordinary range of styles - folk, pop, rock, blues, jazz - and while she is equally at home in all of them, she doesn't actually belong in any of them. Joan Armatrading is one of those rare artists who simply sounds like herself. Whatever style she is experimenting with, she dances on the edges of it. So you get her interpretation of blues; her interpretation of jazz. Except perhaps for rock. When she veers down the rock path she, surprisingly, is a classic rocker. A couple of guitar solos sounded quite Hendrix-esque. And then she's just as likely to follow that up with a soft melodic ballad on piano.

Armatrading took us through a representative sample of a musical canon that spans four decades. There were plenty of her best known numbers - Me Myself I, Drop the Pilot, Love and Affection, All the Way from America _- and a selection of songs from her more recent forays into jazz and blues influenced offerings.

From the outset she was gracious and witty. I loved the way she paused at the conclusion of each song long enough to allow us to show our appreciation, and for us to see her smile warmly in enjoyment of the moment. Quite endearing.

Midway through her performance we were treated to a slide show of her career highlights - musical and personal. It felt like we were in her lounge room at home sharing precious memories. It was a nice touch.

Several songs featured pre-recorded parts to fill out the sound. At times this worked really well. It allowed her to play nifty jazz lead parts on songs like Stepping Out, and have us enjoy the brass embellishment on the classic Love and Affection. She told us she's played this song in every concert she's ever played, and you can see why. It is indeed a classic. ("Sing me another love song but this time with a little dedication.") On other songs like the reggae influenced Rosie I found the extra overlay intrusive.

Drop the Pilot was very funky, and Me Myself I once again revealed Joan the rocker. She finished with the gentle Willow, and invited the audience to join in. We all sent ourselves home singing in unison as Joan sat, smiling again, at the keyboard.

It was a privilege to finally see Joan Armatrading in person. She's still pushing boundaries and her voice still sounds as rich and mellifluous as it ever did. Like 'massage for the brain' someone commented. Swapping seamlessly between electric guitar, piano and her trademark 12 string Ovation, she generously shared forty years of original music and few were disappointed. Most in fact were rapt.

(Also published on The Clothesline)

Footnote:

7 years later I was rapt to find this review featured on Joan Armatrading's own website!

Susan Greenfield Rings The Alarm Bells Again

Baroness Susan Greenfield has been giving talks on the dangers associated with Internet technology for some years now. I have worked in the field of educational technology for the last 15 years and often read her reports on her research and subsequent disparaging grand conclusions about technology so I admit that I probably went to hear her recent address at the University of South Australia with a degree of bias. Nevertheless I wanted to hear her for myself and make up my own mind.

In broad sweep I actually agree with much of what she had to day. Like her, I am concerned about how mobile and Internet technologies may be rewiring our brains, and redefining us as a species. I get no joy, and a degree of angst, when I see a 20 something person buried in the screen of their phone and not once look up to see what might be happening outside the train window during a 45 minute journey through superb scenery.

My problem is how she reaches her conclusions. There was fleeting reference to articles and research whose titles contain words like 'brain', 'technology', 'growth', etc but zero discussion about these works. Instead, in the talk I attended, she was openly dismissive about whatever gains new technology may have brought us. Pandering to the prejudice of the crowd, she went for cheap shots: Twitter - "why would anyone want to know about what your cat is doing?" I have never seen that kind of trite message on my Twitter feed because my feed is cultivated. I carefully select who I follow. She would know that thousands use Twitter as an intelligent means of exchange but she chose to ignore that fact for the sake of her sensationalist and simplistic argument. Another chestnut - how could anyone think that social media connections could be as rich as face to face contact in the same room? Here she is being ignorant or devious, and I suspect it's the latter. I suspect she, like me and countless others, has enjoyed a degree of freedom as a result of being a disembodied entity on the Net. Very early in my days on the Net I became aware of a liberation I felt to express ideas when no one knew if I was young or old, academic or truck driver, physically disabled or deliciously attractive. I was a brain without all the clutter that physical presence brings and my ideas were judged as just that - ideas. Not a product of the casing they came in.

Yes Internet and mobile technology is changing us - no one disputes this. It does rewire our brains. But by the same token, as Greenfield would agree, the moment we decide for example to go off the Net and learn a new language or play a new instrument our brain changes again. Brain changes are not permanent. Our brain will happily accommodate whatever we choose to pursue - right though to old age.

Another writer who has bridged this same territory is Nicholas Carr in his book, The Shallows - What the Internet is Doing to our Brains. Carr also came in for plenty of flack from the technology community  for his provocative questioning of the value of technology, but at least Carr was not sensationalising his case, or demeaning those who lived by the Internet. All Carr was suggesting is that we need to debate this issue of what's happening to us as a result of our (near) addiction to the new technologies. No argument from me there, and I think really that is all Greenfield ultimately wants to see happen as well. But her pandering to ignorant prejudice is unhelpful and merely reinforces the opinions of those who don't understand the advantages of new technology.

To be fair though Greenfield in the main was talking about children. Baby Boomers like myself can delve deeply into the new world of technology, then stand back and compare the process with other previous means of processing and distributing knowledge - books, writing on paper, face to face discussions. We can evaluate the benefit of the new against the old. Children don't have this affordance. Very young children only know the world of screens and multiple distraction. And older children may not have known a time when reflection, time alone, thinking absent-mindedly, daydreaming, and reading silently for long periods were normal occurrences, and crucial determinants of our mental and emotional health.

I keep thinking that educators need to have these discussions with their students - children and adults -  as part of a digital literacy program. Have them compare reading print text with screen text and evaluate the difference. Have them multitask as they research a topic and then try reading one or two books or articles on the same topic and compare the two experiences. (I have referred to this elsewhere as horizontal versus vertical learning.) We are the first generation in human history that can actually observe the changes that are happening to us as we adopt new technology. Neuroscience has advanced to the point that we can almost measure these changes in real time. So rather than sound the clarion calls of alarm as Susan Greenfield likes to do, let's collectively engage in an exploration of how we're changing, and be aware and mindful about it.

Greenfield's style earned her a near thunderous ovation from the non-believers, but she was preaching to the choir. And it isn't very helpful in encouraging dialogue between opposing factions of this new technology dilemma. She seems more interested in polarising opinion and selling books. If you want to read a book asking intelligent questions about how technology may be changing us, read Nicholas Carr's The Shallows instead.

A Dramatic Look at China-Australia Relations

State Theatre Company - Kryptonite

Space Theatre, Fri Oct 24

In the space of my lifetime China has changed from a being pariah state to one that Australia relies on heavily for its economic well-being. The recent death of Gough Whitlam reminded us all that the change began in the seventies when he had the wisdom to open relations with China. China itself has changed a great deal and Beijing has become a modern metropolis. Outwardly it has become much like any other modern city. But as Kryptonite reveals, what goes on behind the scenes or under the surface of the apparent changes in China can still leave the rest of the world mystified about what really drives this vast nation.

Lian, played by Ursula Mills, was one of the very first Chinese students to grace our shores in the 1980s. She meets Dylan (Tim Walter), a fellow student on campus and they are immediately intrigued by each other. What follows is a series of meetings over the years as their lives change radically and they attempt to reconcile the feelings they have for each other. These meetings are set against a backdrop of changing relations between China and Australia.

The infamous events of Tiananmen Square are a watershed for their own relationship and that of their respective countries, and is the first in a series of hiccups that both draws them together and pushes them apart. This tension is central to the play. No matter how much they are attracted to each other cultural differences always manage to render an ongoing relationship difficult.

The scenes early in the play where the young students make fun of each other as they explore their different backgrounds are quite endearing, and more importantly, this mutual fascination is authentic and believable. We  want them to be together.  Mills' accent is cute and fetching and contributes to an air of naivete about her new land, and Walter is appropriately awkward as the young student. Lian makes fun of Dylan's lack of ideals and he tries to get her to lighten up. But try as she might her ties with family back in China work against that. Dylan however, inspired by Lian's search for meaning and blessed with the freedom of being Australian plunges into a life where he strives to realise his ideals about the environment and he  enters politics.

In time he finds that politics is a grubby world of self-interest and muck-raking that drags up innocent details of your past to make you look unfit for office. Did Lian (China) engineer the sharing of confidential information for her own gain? Has Dylan (Australia) been caught in a honey trap? Kryptonite is a complex work, and it feels important. It could easily be used as a text book for an entire course on intercultural relations or international politics. It is rich with cultural nuance and political intrigue.

Both  Mills' and Walters' performances are quite wonderful. They quickly had the audience on side, feeling their pain, and caring about what happens to them. By the time we reach the present day Dylan's future is squarely in Lian's hands. Her destiny however is constrained by loyalty to a set of traditional values that conflict with those that might bring them and their two countries closer together. Sadly, after decades of close contact they and their countries are still dancing around the cultural chasm that yawns between them, and are no closer to knowing what values really drive their respective cultures.

Well written, great set, and clever direction. Instructive, enlightening, entertaining, important, and also quite funny in parts.

(also published at The Clothesline)

Sleeping at Dubai Airport

On a recent return trip from Australia to Europe via Dubai I discovered quite a bit about sleeping options in Dubai airport. On the way over I decided to try a Snoozecube. It was a reasonably long trek to gate C22 in terminal 1 but I found the Snoozecube people friendly and efficient. The room and bed were clean and within minutes I was out like a light. I got 4 hours solid sleep (@$36/hr), then made my way back to the lounge feeling quite refreshed and ready for my next flight.

The return journey was not quite so smooth sailing.  If you're flying with Qantas or Emirates and your wait time in Dubai between flights is more than 8 hours you are eligible for what is called 'Dubai Connect' on the Qantas site. This may depend on your frequent flyer status - I'm not sure - but as a Gold member this meant was I eligible for free accommodation in a hotel at the airport 'subject to availability.' No one at Qantas or Emirates seemed to know exactly what this 'subject to availability' meant in practice. On boarding the Dubai flight in Amsterdam I was given an accommodation voucher for a hotel outside the airport.

I landed in Dubai 90 minutes late partly because there was an abnormal amount of air traffic around the airport. That it, it was busy! Immigration queues in Dubai can be exceedingly long at the best of times and I figured I would lose at least 30 minutes getting through customs and getting to my 'Dubai connect' hotel outside the airport. Ditto in reverse. So with the late arrival and exiting and re-entering the airport my 8 hours was now down to 5 and a half. I explained all this to the staff at the Emirates lounge and they thought I'd probably be better off just finding a quiet corner of the lounge and sleeping on their kind of recliner seats but they were too high and slippery so I made myself comfortable on the floor and enjoyed another sound 4 hours sleep.

So next time round I'll either make use of Snoozecube or sleep in the lounge. And now I know that the 'Dubai Connect' option involves exiting the airport and immigration, etc I'll only use this if I have a layover for 10 hours or more.

In the fields of eastern Ukraine......

When I see images of the recent Malaysia Airlines disaster I cry. I felt even more moved today when I saw the cavalcade of hearses taking the bodies to somewhere in Holland to be identified. I didn't know anyone on this flight, nor am I connected or related to those who lost their lives in any way. So why am I feeling like this?

Is it because I've been to Holland many times, have lived there, have many friends there, my son lives there?

Is it because I'm a traveller and frequently use planes to get around?

Is it because there were so many Australians among the dead?

Is it because I have flown Malaysia Airlines many times and they fly into my home city of Adelaide?

It's probably all of these things on some sub-conscious level, but from the outset of this disaster I have been quite frankly gob-smacked at the stupidity and callousness of those who shot this plane down, and patrolled the fields of death in eastern Ukraine like cowboys. Keeping those with authority and expertise from properly investigating the site, picking through the ruins, standing on  the tail of the downed plane, removing parts of the plane from the scene, displaying souvenirs of the dead passengers, looting their belongings, and most offensively of all leaving bodies out in the elements and then dragging them around when it finally occurred to them that they should do something about it. 

I just find this whole litany of ignorant activity beyond the pale for the 'civilised world' of 2014. This is Europe for heaven's sake. Where is the respect for the dead? Where's the sorrow? Or an apology even? It doesn't matter who did it - Russian backed separatists or other Ukrainians - no one involved has expressed sorrow or regret for the death of 300 innocent people who had nothing to do with this conflict. But I guess I'm not surprised at that. What has amazed and shocked me is the fact that the guns weren't buried and disagreements put aside immediately to take proper care of the dead. Instead both sides maintained a stand-off, played the blame game, rifled through the possessions of those they'd killed, and left bodies to rot in the sun. The world watched (well I did anyway) in disbelief and tears.

But today we saw a different story. Each survivor was taken off a plane in Eindhoven by people in uniform in dignified and solemn fashion, and each of them rode alone in their own hearse through streets lined with people marking their passing in silence, shedding tears, and strewing flowers on the passing hearses. It didn't matter who they were or where they came from - they could have been Dutch or Australian or Malaysian.  What mattered is they were human; they were like us, and this is how the dead should be treated. 

Holland showed its class today. On behalf of the civil side of humanity they enacted a ceremony of great respect that showed that human lives are valued in a way they were not as they were left lying in the fields of eastern Ukraine. 

So, as I watched the cavalcade carrying the unknown dead through the streets of Holland, I cried for a different reason. I cried because at last someone had realised how important these last rites are for all of us, not just for the families involved, and acted on it with dignity and grace. Bedankt Nederland (thanks Holland) for restoring some dignity to the world today. 

A Stunning Night of Strings

Adelaide International Guitar Festival Gala - Australian String Quartet with Pepe Romero, Maximo Pujol Trio, and Slava Grigoryan plus special guests: The Aurora Guitar Ensemble

Festival Theatre, Sat Jul 19

This was a case of the support act nearly stealing the show. The curtain opened on the glorious sight of 26 guitarists in brightly coloured shirts seated and ready to play. Their composer and musical director, Paul Svoboda, raised his arms for quiet, waited a few appropriate seconds, then launched the Aurora Ensemble. What a beautiful sound. Svoboda himself is mesmerising as he choreographs his players with precision and grace. If I closed my eyes I could hear an orchestral string section. At times I heard wind instruments, and a piano. But I'd open my eyes again and there were just guitars. Beautifully played guitars and superb arrangements. Quite simply some of the most uplifting music I've heard in years.

Enter the Australian String Quartet (ASQ) and Slava Grigoryan to play a piece by Australian composer Shaun Rigney. Modern and experimental, it took some getting used to. It seems a difficult piece to play, and I imagine it might be one of those pieces that is more fun to play than to listen to. ASQ were not so much playing together on this disjointed and occasionally discordant piece as keeping out of each other's way. As violin one swapped parts with violin two who handed over to cello who had its lines completed by viola it bounced around quite frenetically at times, and in the quieter moments or gaps there was the guitar holding it all together. Fascinating to watch and enjoyable to listen to, but more music for the head than the heart perhaps.

Spain's classical guitar superstar, Pepe Romero, joined ASQ next and treated us to Luigi Boccherini's 'Fandango' from the late 18th century. In contrast this was a much brighter and more harmonic interlude with the guitar parts more integrated into the composition. There were also fine moments that showcased the difference between bowed strings (violin, cello) and plucked (guitar), and how deliciously complementary they are.  

The Maximo Pujol Trio from Argentina were the final featured act and delivered sensuous moments of tango. The interplay here between Pujol on guitar and Eleonora Ferreyra on bandoneon, a type of concertina, was a joy to behold and listen to. It was just like the instruments were talking to each other. It also felt European, but it was actually music from the 'Paris of the south' - Buenos Aires.

A wonderful evening's entertainment.

(also published on The Clothesline)

Adelaide International Guitar Festival - Late Night Session

Cam Blokland, Marcel Yammouni, Simon Hosford

Space Theatre, Thursday July 17

Who would have thought that wild and untamed electric guitar from the rock gods of the seventies and eighties would still be with us in 2014 (my mother told me it would never last), and would even be featured at a high profile cultural event in the city's premiere theatre?  But so it was last night at the Late Night Session of the Adelaide International Guitar Festival.

Three guitar shredders took  the stage in turn to demonstrate the power of the electric form of guitar. Whether you like it or not, the electric guitar is a remarkable instrument. As  well as being able to weep (George Harrison) , talk (Bruce Springsteen, Thunder Road), Cam Blokland, Marcel Yammouni,  and Simon Hosford got their guitars to wail, scream, screech and soar in a powerhouse display of guitar wizardry.

Local lad, Cam Blokland was up first. Looking every bit the rock star with long hair and sunnies (he's  the guy in sunglasses on the festival's promo poster) he reeled off a number of original 'songs' with occasional glimpses of melody (I liked the one his Mum liked), that were mostly showcases for his incredibly nimble fingers. His self-deprecating send-ups of the body language of rock guitarists was a nice touch too. Marcel Yammouni followed with a slightly less frenetic  performance that involved less notes and more space, more moments of what might be called melody, and indeed some subtlety. He dedicated one of his songs to Johnny Winter, the legendary Albino Blues guitarist who had sadly died earlier in the day. But then Simon Hosford  blew all notions of melody and subtlety out of the water with an onslaught of speed and a percussive style that was not so much music as an exploration into the power of electricity.

Seeing guitar played by these three maestros of this genre was an assault on the senses, and one can't escape the fact that guitar played like this is an extension of ego - how can one person make so much noise/be so loud? But as Simon Hosford said, "this is about as much fun as you can have standing up!"  I really enjoyed the show, but it was strange to see and hear this kind of music where no one was dancing (there was barely even any discernible rocking of torsos as I looked around the room), there was no superstar hype surrounding the personas of the guitarists, and no screaming fans. It was all very serious and studied. It seems wild metal shredding guitar has come of age.

And kudos to the fantastic band members supporting the guitar tyros - they were a show in their own right. Keyboard and bass and drums all got to do solos, but it was the drum solo that took me back - vintage!

Now for a little classical baroque at the other end of the guitar spectrum.......

(also published at The Clothesline)

What is cabaret?

Till now I've ignored the annual Adelaide Cabaret festival. I figured it was something beyond my sphere of enjoyment and would feature music that I have difficulty relating to - principally jazz. But this year I took the plunge and learned a great deal, and have seen some awesome shows. Cabaret it seems is an all embracing genre that does not have a set format. I thought there'd be a lot of singer standing by the piano singing type acts. There was some of this, but there was plenty else besides.

Wikipedia defines cabaret as "a form of entertainment featuring music, song, dance, recitation or drama. It is mainly distinguished by the performance venue (also called a cabaret), such as in a restaurant, pub, or nightclub with a stage for performances. The audience, often dining or drinking, does not typically dance but usually sits at tables." So it doesn't really matter what's happening on stage. As long as people are seated around tables it can be cabaret. It's the type of venue that matters, not what's happening on stage. I have seen funk, pop, rock, blues, jazz, comedy and burlesque this week, and most of it has been brilliant.

Something else which seems to be de rigeur for cabaret, based on what I've seen over the last two weeks, is that there must be significant interaction with the audience. This may be jokes or humour, narration of a story or context that pieces together the musical interludes, wandering among the tables singing to or having fun with people, or getting people to sing along. So it's not just about playing the music. More is expected. You have to be an entertainer. I saw one show which fell down in this regard. Musically the show was wonderful. It would have been perfect as just a concert. But in this case the performer's entertainment skills were week. In a couple of others the entertainment aspect was great, but I didn't like the music! Not to say that the music wasn't any good - I just didn't like it. In fact it must be said that the standard of musicianship was outstanding.

Every show featured a lead performer, and they typically had brought a pianist with them, who was often the musical director, or other key musician. The remainder of their musical ensemble was made up of local musicians who may have had just one or two rehearsals before going live. This made the standard of musical performances even more impressive, but also resulted in some shows where the local musicians seemed a little disengaged from the stage act. They didn't laugh at jokes, or even look at the star act between songs. They were only concerned with making sure they had the right page of the score ready for the next song. And this is a bit weird when the entertainer is being very funny or outrageous and the reaction from the support musicians is zilch!

I learned along the way that this semi-impromptu method of doing live shows is quite normal for cabaret. The main act is often imported from out of town, and has to go live with a band they barely know, and vice versa. So there is always an element of uncertainty about the quality of the show. And some performers switch from other forms of theatre when you have practised being in character, and rehearsed everything down to the last detail, over months in the lead up to a live show. So cabaret always has this edge of the unexpected and unrehearsed. This was sometimes evident on the technical side of things too. The technical crew are always local, and have had precious little time to rehearse lighting, audio cues and the like. It all sounds a little stressful, but probably contributes to cabaret being a dynamic genre that is always evolving. But it also assumes an extremely high level of professional skill where participating musicians and technical crews need to execute their skills with minimal preparation.

With my minimal exposure to cabaret thus far I'm not sure how applicable this is to cabaret in general, but there seems to be a leaning towards the risque. I saw several very suggestive performers, and one who was outright erotic. But it's an intriguing genre where sexual or other bohemian behaviour is showcased in quite subtle, classy fashion. It can occasionally be crude, but generally this kind of behaviour from the edge of acceptability was suggestive, or naughty, or implied. It was not explicit or cheap. As Sven Ratzke said, cabaret is about sex with class, and where you don't need to be naked with a wrecking ball to be sexy!

Sven Ratzke's show, Divas Diva's, is one of two I'd like to mention as the highlights of what I've seen these two past weeks. You can read my full review of it here, but it was camp, sexy, a little outrageous, funny, reflective and musically outstanding. The other was Rocket Man by Rod Davies. Again, the review here tells the fuller story, but this was a masterpiece of entertainment combining music and narrated stories of Rod's life journey through music. The man should be regarded, and maybe already is by some, as a national treasure.

So now I know a little about cabaret. I know it is classy, that the standard of music is exceptional, and that it can vary widely in format and style. Each new show brought a different way of being cabaret, and from an audience point of view this is quite exciting because you're not quite sure what to expect. But I'm sure of one thing, if it's on the Adelaide Cabaret Festival program it will be very good. I may not like it, but it will be very good.

(PS Thank you Catherine :) 

Lots more Cabaret Festival reviews at Adelaide's newest online arts magazine: http://theclothesline.com.au/category/reviews/