"Be the change you want to be in the world" is the driving philosophy behind Billabong's charitable division Design for Humanity. These guys are in the business of making a real contribution to humanitarian causes and they're bringing us along with them. Billabong's second annual Design for Humanity benefit is a rare blend of giving and receiving — an extravaganza of music, art and fashion where 100% of the proceeds are donated in support of the Pakistan Flood Children's Appeal. The aim of these events is to promote awareness of and raise funds to support humanitarian and environmental causes whilst celebrating the capacity we all have to make a real and lasting difference where it matters most. Doing it for the kids at Oxford Art Factory this year are The Vines, Operator Please, Flight Facilities, PhDJ from Purple Sneakers, Sosueme DJs and MUM DJs. For your viewing pleasure there'll be art installations by the likes of Claudio Kirac, and a runway showing of Billabong bikinis styled in conjunction with designer Lil Boyd.
Concert for the Cure has joined forces with Shapiro Gallery to bring you Support, an exhibition of bras as re-created by Australian artists and designers. It's recorded that one in eight Australian women are diagnosed with breast cancer by the time they're 85 and that the incidence is increasing. So with the help of artists like Akira Akira, Ben Frost, and Tamara Dean, as well as designers like Ksubi, Akira Isogawa and Bec & Bridge — they're hoping to generate fresh discourse about breast cancer and raise money for further research into tumour dormancy. All works will go under the hammer in a silent auction, and all proceeds will go towards breast cancer research.
Everyone loves a good excuse to make art. And could there be a better one than saving your favourite local ARI? Firstdraft are holding their annual 'fun-draiser' next Saturday and the title, So you think you can draw...(or make other stuff), gives you a clue to the sort of fun you might be in for. A whole slab of local emerging artists have put pencil, pen and no doubt other things to paper for the cause. That said, you don't have to make art to turn up. All you need is a gold coin to get in — which will get you some tunes courtesy of Dara Gill and Smokey La Beef, performances from Pig Island and others, and a peek at a whole lot of pieces. Still, it wouldn't hurt to bring along a bit of spare dosh. There's a sausage sizzle, which is always good. Plus, the art is cheap. We're talking $50 for A4 and $100 for A3: that spells bargain. It's the perfect chance to add a little cred to your mantelpiece (and hide the peeling paint from your landlord).
Ever imagine what it might be like to be caught in a WWII air raid? Sure, it’d be scary as hell but imagine the parties you could have in the underground drinking dens and cabaret bars. Hidden from the warning sirens and surrounded by gorgeous ladies and men in uniform, you'd celebrate like there was no tomorrow. Well dream no more because the Lost Boys are back with another of their infamous secret parties — Lost in the Blitz. The idea is that the Boys host the whole party and all you have to do is simply swing on up and have all the fun. But the best bit is that we can't tell you where it is. And only those with a costume are allowed in to jive along to the Miami Horror djs, Dj Simo, Dan Single and more. But costumes are the least of your worries — fellas, you know a man in uniform makes a girl swoon and ladies, this is your chance to doll up like Betty Paige at a Ball. Getting Lost has never been such a blast.
The work of Kate Champion and Force Majeure is brave in many ways. Incorporating disparate forms of dance and a considered use of words and visuals, they are able to create something that contains distinctive elements and yet is more than the sum of its parts. Their work is contemporary, relevant and accessible; casual in its presentation but distinct in its content and form. Many will remember The Age I'm In, their hugely successful 2008 work which featured at that year's Sydney Festival. Not In A Million Years looks to both consolidate these gains and extend the company further. One way of doing this is Force Majeure's 'behind the scenes' blog, which has served to document the rehearsal process and provides the opportunity to 'ask questions along the way'. This rare level of transparency is telling: Champion and her company are willing to be queried, challenged and considered. And work like this certainly deserves to be. Image: courtesy of Force Majeure and Carriageworks
It's a tale we've heard a thousand times. Not the plot itself, I mean the 'fresh, relevant interpretation' line that theatres throw in to justify the presence of a classic in their midst. In this case, though, the line seems to have a bit of weight to it. Take one leader: once the revolutionary hero, now obsessed with more tangible gains. His greed breeds discontent, once loyal men become rebellious and therefore corruption, cunning and conspiracies are rife. The situation is a power keg and all it takes is a single spark to set it off. Sounds eerily familiar, no? Add to the mix the supernatural interventions that Shakespeare has invested his play with, and the result is a complex delve into contemporary politics that would put most journalists to shame. Julius Caesar looks to be both a savvy political query and an admirable theatrical achievement in its own right — certainly not something to be sniffed at. Image: courtesy of New Theatre
They are, perhaps, not three words that you would ever expect to meet in the same sentence. 'Symphony' and 'orchestra', sure - but 'YouTube'? Who knew that the power of the internet could be used for good, not evil? Defying expectations, YouTube have, literally, assembled a symphony orchestra. Thousands of musicians have auditioned online, with winners from all over the world performing via the same technology. For the Grand Finale in Sydney, images will be projected onto the Opera House to bring the performance together in a dramatically visual way. This Tuesday event will unveil some of these international winners in their first performance, alongside Australian musicians William Barton, the didjeridu legend, and the innovative Synergy Percussion. The program includes no less than seven exceptional contemporary pieces. Highlights include Edgard Varèse's Ionisation, a groundbreaking exploration of percussive sounds, and Australian Nigel Westlake's Omphalo Centric Lecture, which is his widely performed opus one. Image: William Barton, courtesy of Sydney Opera House
Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. Beauty is determined completely from perspective, as is meaning much of the time. To some, belladonna might be a gorgeous Italian catchphrase bandied about beautiful women. To others, it's a deadly poisonous plant, used to eliminate the odd significant personage from history here and there. When it comes to artist Beth Josey, her work always demonstrates this exceptional paradox: death lying behind a beautiful facade. A scientist by day and artist by night, Josey's work reflects her dual life — the intricacies and detail of a scientific study combined with the beauty and imagination in the eye of an artist. In this, her new solo exhibition, art lovers will see a collection of lino prints and related paintings, looking at the irony of the deadly beauty in nature. Also opening at Hardware Gallery is Castellum, a solo exhibition by artist Andrew Ensor. Drawing inspiration from French Chateaus and Japanese castles, this series examines the power and detail in architectural creations and the effect that the passage of time has on their stability and importance. Look no further for Sydney's next up and coming artists, they're right here. Image: Beth Josey
Regarded by many as the greatest ballet company of the early 20th Century, the Ballets Russes was directed by controversial genius Sergei Diaghilev who challenged and titillated audiences with his innovative productions between 1909 and 1939. Diaghilev literally wowed audiences with his envelop-pushing parade of composers, choreographers, dancers, set and costume designers by challenging the artistic and sometimes even moral sensibilities of the day. Let's just say one premier performance literally ended in a riot. Cool. The extravagant costumes donned by the dancers were a large part of what made these productions so unforgettable, and no small wonder when the likes of Pablo Picasso and Henri Matisse took turns at the costume-design helm. Fast-forward to present time and as we celebrate the centenary of this renegade dance company the National Gallery of Australia is exhibiting 140 costumes and accessories from 34 productions, many of which haven't been seen by human eyes since they exploded onto the stages of Europe worn by some of the most famous dancers in the history of dance. You don't need to know anything about ballet to appreciate the magic in these wearable pieces of art and the photographs, films, music and drawings that round out this intriguing exhibition so go and soak up the controversy and the history at the National Gallery.
What brings together Wang Lei's paper dresses, Shi Jindian's sculpted wire, He An's glowing signs and an apartment doorway made from only fabric, sponge and thread by artist Gao Rong? Decade of the Rabbit, the current exhibition at Sydney's White Rabbit Gallery. The name, Decade of the White Rabbit, has a few auspicious associations. 2011 is the year of the rabbit and ten years ago the White Rabbit Collection was established by Ken and Judith Nielson. The collection began with only a few works; now it claims more than 160 Chinese artists. Thirty artists are represented in the current collection show and their artistic practices are as varied as painting, sculpture, installation, model-making, and the incredible fusion of all these things as seen in Yuan Jia's quirky 2010 wooden artwork, Runaway Table and His Duck. Image: He An, What Makes Me Understand What I Know, 2009.
Forget the Golden Age of Hollywood, film-making is stronger than ever these days. Thanks to affordable camera equipment and instantaneous distribution via the internet, the medium of film is accessible to almost everyone. This means that voices once marginalised or censored have an opportunity to be recorded for broadcast. This is where Stuff! comes onto the scene. Seven film-makers from Greater Western Sydney were selected and trained over a year with help from acclaimed screen writer and editor Billy Marshall Stoneking and director and writer Amin Palangi. Now seven films are ready to launch and you're invited to check them out in the Lennox Theatre at Parramatta Riverside. These shorts are tight. Don't expect to see the usual "three minute with a punchline" fare. These are stories sourced from the endless inspiration of family, and each film-maker paints a unique image of their character's place in a world of tensions and conflicting allegiances. Stuff! is on for one night only, so keep Thursday clear and go to support the next wave of quality Australian film-making.
The title of this final instalment in Stieg Larson's bestselling Millennium trilogy might promise a lot of sting, but the film delivers woefully little. Director Daniel Alfredson (The Girl Who Played with Fire) gives about as much energy as the hobbling geriatrics that serve as Lisbeth Salander's toothless antagonists this time around. In fact its seems as if the production has taken a bullet to the brain just like their heroine, who spends most of the film's torturously long 142 minutes spent prone in a hospital bed. By all accounts, Larson's third tome is a hefty, sprawling tale, and evidently it proved too much for Alfredson and his screenwriter Ulf Ryberg, for the result is a stodgy, terribly uncinematic affair. But shortcomings be damned; we're all far too invested in this saga, and damnit, unconscious or not, Noomi Rapace is too captivating to miss on screen. As the titular shit-stirrer, Salander opens the film as a bloody pulp being whisked to hospital after her run in with daddy dearest Zalachenko (Georgi Staykov) and her hulking half-brother Niedermann (Mikael Spreitz). A kindly and eventually rather smitten surgeon (Aksel Morisse) saves Lisbeth's life and shields her from the police during her convalescence. Meanwhile the dogged journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Michael Nyqvist) rallies his troops at Millennium to create an issue focussed solely on clearing Lisbeth's sullied name. This investigation sets Blomkvist on the case of the aforementioned old men, who seem to need Lisbeth dead in order to protect their political skeletons. Then there's the dangerously gormless Niedermann still on the loose of course a criminal trial to contend with. With threats abounding, you would think tensions would be running stratospherically high, but somehow these stakes don't manage to translate to the audience. Only Lisbeth's spiky, skin-tight outfit stirs any emotion in the clunky courtroom scenes, while Blomkvists' tepid run in with his would be assassins results in a barely causes a flutter. Ultimately an overstuffed plot and a striking heroine relegated to the sidelines sucks too much oxygen from the film, and an incredibly trite ending proves to be the final nail in the coffin of a disappointingly lacklustre finale. But all is not lost; from now on it's time to look to the American remake, where David Fincher can surely resuscitate the series, and return Lisbeth to her enchantingly gothic glory. https://youtube.com/watch?v=vVGbPFdU96A
Is it too big a call to say the Mardi Gras Parade is the Sydney event of a calendar year? It is certainly one of the biggest, not just in scale, but also in affect. What an astounding, glorious thing that once a year, Sydneysiders gather together to march and dance and party on in celebration of being queer. After 33 years, even if it's not Sydney's defining cultural event, Mardi Gras Parade is an immutable part of our city's folklore. For 2011, the focus of the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras as a whole is on equality in marriage. Creative Director Ignatius Jones, also responsible for the Sydney Olympics Ceremonies, 2010 Winter Olympics Ceremonies and the 2010 World Expo Shanghai, has encouraged parade participants to 'Say Something!' This will doubtless play out in numerous colourful and outrageous ways. On the night, proceedings will be broadcast live on Arena, but we recommend you get amongst it in the flesh. Proudly.
H.G Wells says that "Human history is, in essence, a history of ideas." So if any of us are going to make history, it's going to be with our ideas. Get thinking kids. If you'd like an arena where you can hear what all the business thinkers of today have going on in their noggin, you best head to the circus. For three days, Carriageworks is hosting a festival of ideas, bringing together some of the greatest business minds from around the world. If you're thinking of jumping on this particular trapeze, listen to what's under the big top: eight keynote speakers including Jose Cabaco from Nike sportswear, Jeffrey Cole (founder of The World Internet Project), Jon Casimir from The Gruen Transfer and Marvin Chow of Google. The three day circus also includes the The Space Film Festival, showcasing YouTube's global initiatives, the APG Battle of Big Thinking where the best minds are going to battle for the biggest idea and Pencil Cases which will provide an insight into the whole process from the idea, to its creation and execution. Wind it all up with the Award Awards recognising achievements in marketing, and you've got one comprehensive collection of light bulbs for that head of yours. Image: Josh Spear
In the lead up to the last election, I decided to revisit Williamson's classic Don's Party - specifically, the film version that we all remember from childhood election nights. It was a timely reminder that marriages, ladies' haircuts, barbecues and politics just ain't what they used to be. Somehow, a little of that fanatical passion has slipped away. Frankly, this is not always a bad thing. But given the results of that election, I have to confess that I am a little nostalgic for the clear cut logic of those salad days. Williamson, apparently, was thinking something quite similar. Set the scene for 21 August 2010: another election night, and another party at Don's place. Forty years later, Don Parties On revives the characters and spirit of the original script. This production will certainly not be the hippest one on the block, but I think that's probably the point. Babyboomers, and Williamson himself, are perhaps a little down and out - and therein lies the fun. And it's just possible that Williamson's signature blend of realism and populism is exactly what we need to make some sense of the current political climate. Image: photo by Jeff Busby, courtesy of Melbourne Theatre Company and Sydney Theatre
With its rich red interiors, the Chauvel seems just the right setting for a Russian Resurrection. The 7th annual film festival is offering up 17 new films plus a World War II retrospective, that includes Andrei Tarkovsky's stunning debut Ivan's Childhood. Amongst the contemporary crop is the starkly beautiful How I Ended This Summer. Fresh from screening in competition at the Sydney Film Festival, it is the story of two men holed up on an Arctic meteorological station. Superbly shot and cunningly scripted, the film is one of two featuring up and coming Russian heartthrob Grigoriy Dobrygin. The other is Black Lightning, where Dobrygin plays a grad student who inherits a beaten up old car that just happens to fly. Presented by Timur Bekmambetov (the director of Night Watch and Wanted), the film is being heralded as a Russian smash up between Spiderman and Back to the Future. Flying higher into the cinematic stratosphere is Russia's first 3D animation, and appropriately, it features their late, great technological feat: dogs in space. Belka & Strelka — Space Dogs is an animated tribute to the kooky Soviet mission that launched 50 years ago, and looks set to commemorate the historical event with some good, old fashioned family fun. This celebration of Russian films is the largest festival that occurs outside the country itself. So be sure to peruse the programme and pick out a film or two to enjoy on these last remaining (though thankfully not Russian) winter nights. https://youtube.com/watch?v=V9kYdfSroTs
The Jungle and the Sea is a collection of photographs taken in the northern reaches of the New Guinea islands. The exhibition spans three years, and documents a people untouched by modernity, where the jungle and the sea provide everything that is needed to sustain life. This is a rich and delicate series of portraits that allude to the harsh reality of life in the jungle, while maintaining a respect for it’s beautiful simplicity. Ted O’Donnell is a fashion and portrait photographer, with a background in reportage photography. He works in Sydney shooting for designers, artists and magazines, and was recently selected as one of 10 outstanding emerging Australian Artists in the Absolut Pedestrian.tv State of the Arts series. After travelling to Papua New Guinea for the first time in 2008, he has been unable to resist the simplicity and freedom of life in the islands and is continually drawn back.
There is perhaps only one individual suitably qualified to lecture, in artistic terms, on both the early photographer Alfred Stieglitz and the-artist-who-will-forever-be-known-as Prince. Tracey Moffatt — pop cultural narrative artist extraordinaire, known for her film, photography and video works — fits the role perfectly. The link that Moffatt draws between these two glittering characters is their ability to make individuals famous, other than themselves. Stieglitz is renowned as an early proponent of photography in his own right, but perhaps more significantly as the key importer of European avant-garde to North America. Similarly, Prince wrote both Purple Rain and Nothing Compares 2 U, managing his own music career alongside those of Chaka Khan, The Bangles and many more. Moffatt's rare talent is in her ability to create potent and unusual narratives, while remaining cynically disengaged. We can only wait and see what gems she will extract from the exceptionally insightful comparison of these two characters.
There's something to be said for High School Musical. Ok, so it's not one of the greatest films of the last decade, but it did bring us Zac Efron. This young man is a spectacular triple threat — he can sing, he can dance and he truly can act. Thank god for Me and Orson Welles so we could finally see this last talent demonstrated. The film follows the path of the young Richard Samuels (Efron) as he skips school and gets himself involved in a broadway production by the great director Orson Welles (before his rosebud days). The play is Julius Caesar and the underlying themes of betrayal, tyranny and injustice that Shakespeare injected into his writing, are given new life, reflected in the narrative of this movie. Samuels falls for the girl and ingratiates himself with the cast, however he is let down by his naivety of the theatre industry's true selfishness. Claire Danes puts in an excellent turn as the singularly driven Sonja, and Efron is a delight to watch as his youthful confidence and arrogance are endearing and funny qualities. It's especially nice to see a young actor take on a far meatier role than any that we've previously seen him in, and even more so to see him pull it off. The show is completely stolen however by the spectacular Christian McKay — a relative unknown whose depiction of Welles is mesmerising. At one minute he's charming and full of love for his cast and crew, and at another he's a terrifying despot ruling all with an iron fist. McKay's Welles has a constant madness simmering just below the surface, waiting for the incentive to have it all boil over. Set in 1930s New York, this film also has a visual richness that makes it all the more enjoyable. The costumes and settings are beautiful and even Efron's slicked back hair is an attractive period addition. Though you may see the end coming somewhere towards the beginning, this is a highly enjoyable film with an excellent support cast, witty and fast-paced script and brilliant performances. Well worth a look in. https://youtube.com/watch?v=GQvq7eulfWc
Why do mountain monks make popular dancers? Following a life-long interest, Flemish/Moroccan choreographer Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui travelled to the famous Shaolin Temple and sought his own answers. Sutra is the result of that investigation. Zen Buddhism — or Chan Buddhism, as it is known by the Shaolin Monks of Henan — is a quest to find enlightenment within oneself, through physical and mental experience, instead of seeking it always in intellectual pursuits. Hard work and meditation are the Zen ticket to transcend suffering in this universe. They are also, as Sutra proves, a way to produce phenomenal dance works. Cherkaoui and his Shaolin co-performers seem to liquefy, their bodies flowing through forms that could easily snap the bones of the unenlightened. Alone, the performers would stun, but with sculptor Antony Gormley and composer Szymon Brzoska, this work transcends the scope of commercial dance. There is a constant sense of the world unfolding, reforming and blending upon the Sutra stage. Gormley's wooden boxes provide a strong support for the elasticity of the dancers, creating platforms, forests, pillars, coffins and lotus flowers that echo stories of the Shaolin tradition. Such simplicity, wordless and instantly understood, is central to Cherkaoui's collaboration with the Chan buddhists. He and his team have crafted a physical emanation of Chan experience, merged with European traditions of dance, and the result is an elegant unity. For your own taste of enlightenment, open your mind to Sutra this week. Image by Hugo Glendinning. https://youtube.com/watch?v=I_cMBDeIGAE
Following Godard's advice that "all you need for a movie is a gun and a girl," J Blakeson's feature debut is as spectacularly suspenseful as it is deceptively simple. He uses a kidnapping scenario to show off his impressive hand at writing, mise-en-scene and direction. The film's opening five minutes immediately convey a confidence in style and tone as well as a cool professionalism that is echoed by the plotting kidnappers Vic (Eddie Marsan) and Danny (Martin Compston). Gemma Arterton (Clash of the Titans, Prince of Persia) is their titular victim, and her brave, compelling performance proves there's much more to her than a mere damsel in distress. This is a thriller that you won't want to spoil by knowing too much (perhaps even avoid the trailer). Instead just settle into a cavernous cinema and let Blakeson's superb precision chart the course of Alice Creed's creepy, claustrophobic and at times darkly comedic disappearance. https://youtube.com/watch?v=vbeJl3dt0Aw
Once again it's time to embrace the shhhh and brush up on the beginnings of cinema. Australia's Silent Film Festival has arranged another stellar programme of pre-talkie classics, including Australia's attempt at a Hollywood epic, For the Term of his Natural Life (1927). This is in fact the third adaptation of Marcus Clarke's famous novel, which tells the tale of two look-alike men, one wrongfully accused for the other's murder and sent to a treacherous penal colony on Van Dieman's Land. It's also incredibly exciting to see Yasujiro Ozu's Passing Fancy (Dekigokoro - 1933) on the programme. The master of construction and character, and the hugely influential director of such cinematic gems as Tokyo Story and Floating Weeds, Ozu was a comparatively late adopter of sound. As his 23rd silent film, Passing Fancy looks at the relationship between father and son with a lighter, more comedic touch than his later odes to family. Other festival highlights include a Buster Keaton marathon, the groundbreaking piece of German expressionism The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) and, from before there was Rob Marshall, Cecil B. DeMille's Chicago (1927). The festival is also running a lecture on 1920s fashion as well as live music accompaniment and introductions for each screening. https://youtube.com/watch?v=odCaLSKbu3o
20,000 leagues oceanbound, the idea of a deep sea arcade is just too delightful. Blips and barnacles, Pacman and pufferfish, nautical gangs of amused teens surrounding pinball clams — now that's a party worth the dive. With a killer new single, another hint of a forthcoming album, and a name that simply screams aquatic adventure, Sydney nu-psych, be-bop, Beatles-pop outfit Deep Sea Arcade are back for Spring with a dangerously contagious 7" vinyl to launch. As the highly anticipated follow-up to zingers Lonely In Your Arms and the effortlessly infectious Don't Be Sorry, DSA's latest offering Keep On Walking brings the same brand of psych journey and trippy rock that has seen airwaves and audiences efficiently lose any sense of crowd decorum. A glorious fusion of The Turtles, The Easybeats, The Zombies and any other significant 'The' circa 1965, the classic vocals of Nic McKenzie and his troupe of catchy anglerfish successfully join the host of retro throwbacks rearing their heads of late, with the likes of The Drums, Hungary Kids of Hungary and The Big Pink similarly bringing twangy back. It's nice to think of DSA as 'controlled psychedelia', as their swirling bop of a sound agreeably spinning the senses without straying too far into shoegaze virtuosity. With the launch of their freshest single for a measly $5 at Oxford Art Factory next week, the fivesome's well-packaged Sixties-esque storytelling is a dish best served in courses, with appetizers and entrees rolling from fellow Sydneysiders Wim, Sleepyhands and DJ Marty Doyle. Mad props for local produce. As the fivesome continue to release the pieces of their anticipated LP track by track, the novelty of a vinyl launch is nothing short of appropriate, as this five-piece are slowly but surely making themselves as collectible as McCartney merchandise. But in all seriousness, any band that cites their middle names as 'Time Chamber', 'Cyborg' and 'Treasure Cat' is not something to pass up without a quick snorkel. https://youtube.com/watch?v=Sh6bh7lY6Ms
Is there really any difference between peddling illusion and flat out lying? In real terms probably not, but when you witness the artful wiles of a skilled illusionist the sheer charm and elegance of the performance surely renders the deception forgivable, doesn't it? This is the moral question that lies at the centre of Lying Cheating Bastard, the compelling new play by writer/director Nicholas Hammond and starring James Galea, the fast talking magician/actor/writer/musician on whom the script is based. When at a young age Jimmy Garcia (Galea) meets the man who will become his mentor and school him in the game of trickery, the young prodigy embarks on a luctrative career as a con man and card shark, discovering a natural talent for the art of deception. By the tender age of 27, Garcia had become the most successful con man in Australia simply by mastering life's game of chance. "I always control the variables and never leave anything to chance" he says "Oh yeh. And I cheat." Lying Cheating Bastard will be showing at Riverside theatres for five nights only so be sure to book in advance.
Reading between the lines is an underrated life skill. Sarcasm or honest concern? Compliment or sexual innuendo? Luckily, Griffin Theatre has chosen to spell it out for us. Between The Lines is ongoing program designed to draw out and dig into the Australian plays that make up Griffin's season. Currently on the list is an evening with Chris Mead (director of Quack, Griffin's latest offering), Sam Strong (Griffin's Artistic Director) and a range of mystery 'genre/cult experts' as they debate the strengths and drawbacks of zombies. The other option is The Undead vs. Deadwood: a series of film nights that any film festival would envy, with more zombies, A Country Practice and everything in between. Intriguing? We think so. Image: from Quack, photographed by Michael Corridore
Ms&Mr are a fortunate unity. A two-person singular-entity pursuing a single-minded dual obsession with sentimental film and science fiction. Continuing to write their shared history, lived in the parallel dimension of video art, 808.838 / grandfather paradox enlists the assistance of Richard's deceased grandfather and his 8mm films. This family icon enables the duo to play on the grandfather paradox, simultaneously creating and exploding their myth of an alternate universe where they have existed always together. This work also resurrects another deceased figure, recalling elements of Nikolai Fedorov's determination to transcend the limits of the 'possible' and conquer death through technology. Like a modern day Metropolis, this work is surreal, nostalgic and visionary.
In the fine traditions of extracurricular activities and Madonna (no, we are not linking that for you), Serial Space has assembled a crack team of smart people from the local arts and music community to decide once and for all "Is Lady Gaga an empowered female pop icon or an emaciated trash-mole?" Initially perceived as being merely the one who doesn't wear pants ever (as opposed to the ones who just often don't), Gaga became FASHION and found her way onto the cultural radar of those who like to intellectualise their consumption of pop culture as well as those who like to shout about people on the internet. She's met the Queen, talks publicly and non-judgmentally about being celibate as a personal-political stance and carried a teacup everywhere for a while. She also released some songs. Don't pretend you don't like Bad Romance at least just a little bit; her music career hits that Justin Timberlakey point of being kinda disposable but distinguished by an ironically cheesy sexed-upness strong enough to make some of us realise that taking things seriously isn't a precondition for liking them. She has gimmicks, sure, but are they all there is? Are they enough her own that they become legit? Is she breaking the mould of pop music by being an image auteur, or is she a faux-iconoclastic pastiche of attention-whoring dressed up as Performance Art? Let's settle this once and for all.
Remember the good ol' days, when American teen flicks depicted gangly teens with real problems and real teeth? When high school misfits preferred to swap witty anecdotes at detention to sing-alongs at the glee club? When a vampire was only a vampire once he donned wayfarers and a leather jacket? And when we were all pretty certain we'd be riding hoverboards to work by the time we hit 30? Those days may be gone, but they are not forgotten. In honour of the late Corey Haim, that movie guy Marc Fennell (Triple J, The Circle, Hungry Beast) is hosting an '80s flick-fest of the greatest cult classics the decade had to offer. His stellar selection includes After Hours (1985), The Lost Boys (1987), Blue Velvet (1986, RIP Dennis Hopper), Big Trouble in Little China (1986), The Blues Brothers (1980), Back To The Future (1985), The Breakfast Club (1985), Sixteen Candles (1984) and Die Hard (1988). And to squeeze a little more '80s-geek out of us all, He-Man, She-Ra and Voltron cartoons will feature in between movies. Entry to three movies as well as The '80s Are Back exhibition at the Powerhouse Museum will set you back $30. Attendees are invited to get into slumber-party spirit by wearing their best PJs — with prizes for best dressed (bedhead mullets are highly recommended). I'll be in attendance with my good friends Heather, Heather and Heather. https://youtube.com/watch?v=hsv_NQFbQzo
In my experience, tiny little things are usually either adorable (e.g., kittens, outfits for small children, cupcakes) or something to do with science: bacteria and atoms and the level of interest you have in hearing a recitation of the digits of pi. And some wonderful things are little and smart and cute, like Nancy Drew, or an iPhone, or these sculptures. Forty-six Australian and international artists are contributing works for this show within dimensions of 6x6x6 and created using rapid prototyping tools and models. Yeah, those. Duh. All the pieces have been designed using incredibly complicated 3D modelling software that allows for really intricate and delicate virtual constructions, which are then turned into objects using 3D print technology. Like, you hit 'print' and a sculpture comes out. Creating art in this way explores the possibilities of what artists and designers can do with emerging technologies and opens up a new set of questions about the boundaries between the craftsperson, artisan and artist. They're also amazing-looking little pieces, some of which the artists will be seeing 'live' for the first time at the show. The differing artistic practices of these sculptors and their varying levels of experience with this kind of technology make for an interesting survey of its potential applications.
Jessica Watson's return to Australia has firmly aerated the compost that is the Australian obsession with heroism and "Aussie battlers". As pub lunches and five o'clock wines turn into fisticuffs over whether she's worthy of the title, it does raise the question of why we need heroes and what it takes to qualify for hero status in this country. Now set to travel intrastate, Performance Space's NightTime opens the artistic forum on this juicy topic. Curated by Lara Thoms and Jess Olivieri, NightTime: Everyday Hero will use live performance, participatory live work and video to slice open our desire for heroes and expose its quivering vitals for all to weigh and judge. Who will be found wanting, and who will be crowned hero of the millennium? And, ultimately, who will be paying $1 million for the exclusive interview? Image: Hubub by Justin Shoulder. Photo by Mat Hornby.
She’s launched her own iPhone app, recorded a track for the latest installment of the Twilight saga, and is the “cue empowering moment” audio hot pick for reality TV and news producers, but if you look past the promotional hoopla of Florence and the Machine, you’ll find the raw talent of a young (only 22!) singer/songwriter with a set of lungs so powerful she could wake Sleeping Beauty. Over the past two years, Florence Welch has gone from touring the London pub circuit with her former Machine, Rum Shebeen frontman Dave Ashby, to upgrading to a four-piece band and headlining festivals all around the world. Her debut album, subtly entitled Lungs, is a mixed bag of musical styles that encompass both the solo performer who can bring a small auditorium to their knees and the more theatrical, costume-changing, moon-crest straddling, Kate Bush-esque Florence and the Machine. While tracks 'Raise it Up (Rabbit Heart)', 'Hurricane Drunk' and her cover of 'You’ve Got The Love' salute ‘90s dance anthems, it is tracks like 'Girl With One Eye' and 'Kiss With A Fist' that truly summon the fire in Florence’s belly and are delightful to watch her perform on stage. If you’re already booked in to catch her at Splendour, then I can only suggest that this is an artist well worth experiencing in a more intimate setting. With each breath, Florence takes her audience to a higher place, playing her voice like an instrument that has no need for extra percussion other than the delicate twangs of the harp that sits beside her. She plays her Splendour Sideshow at the Enmore Theatre on August 5. Tickets for the fourth and final show, at the larger Hordern Pavilion, go on sale on Tuesday, June 8, at 9am.
In 2003, while handing me a burnt-copy of Broken Social Scene's You Forgot It In People, a friend provided the following caveat: never trick yourself into thinking you know exactly what Broken Social Scene are going to do next. It was obnoxious advice, but true nonetheless. Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning's sprawling musical collective is an unruly beast, covering an exhausting amount of stylistic ground on record and in live shows. Forgiveness Rock Record (BSS's first proper LP in five years) does not provide an exception. It travels from frenzied to ambient to anthemic and back again, in just under an hour. BSS are coming to Australia this winter for Splendour in the Grass, and while their accompanying sideshows probably won't be among the most-hyped, they should be. Over the years Broken Social Scene has comprised as many as nineteen musicians (including Feist and members of Stars and Metric) and only ever as few as six. They've provided songs for movie and television soundtracks, and scored several films. Since its release, Forgiveness Rock Record has garnered a waterfall of critical praise, and if a collection of (poorly shot but tantalising) YouTube clips is anything to go by, BSS will please in a live setting as well. Tickets on sale Friday, May 14. https://youtube.com/watch?v=ahqkDBeN1FU
In games of “would you rather?”, I was often asked “would you rather be blind of deaf?”; after seeing Antony Gormley’s Firmament IV, I wonder why the game never included “... or forego the ability to perceive space?” First installed in the below-ground gallery of White Cube Mason’s Yard in March 2008, this is the concepts’ fourth outing. 1030 steel balls, each the size of a shot put, and 1849 steel elements are welded together to create a non-regular, polygonal structure that meanders and struggles to fit within the white cube (the structure measures over 20 metres in height). Look away now if you don’t want the surprise to be ruined, but the structure is representative of a human in the foetal position. Duh! Within the four walls of Anna Schwartz’s gallery space, the man-in-the-form-of-a-molecular-structure creates a “double space” that disturbs precisely because it proposes occupation before our own subject-inhabitation. The graphic outline of this figure is reminiscent of a shed snake skin; it even resembles a banana peel, with its insides consumed. One is reminded of Le Breton, who noted that in some societies the body does not form a boundary, but is open to flow and exchange with the environment. Most will not be able to resist the temptation to climb through the delineation of this figure. The perceived expansive force of Gormley’s sculpture is undeniably impressive. One more push, and it would break through the embryonic white walls. Any why not indeed? Run down to Anna Schwartz before it does, because this work, if liberated, loses all its potency.
Do you like pina coladas? Getting caught in the rain? Do you like making love at midnight, in the dunes on the cape? If just one of those things is true best dust off your grass skirt this Saturday, because the Tiki Two are throwing a clambakin' shindig for your vintage pleasure. Playing everything-a-go-go, including surfing birds and rocking billies, the Tiki Two will be joined at the Tiki Taboo by Space Party, a band billed as "surf rock gods". If you're not too busy doing the frump or the shag on the dancefloor, there'll also be hula girls and limbo on hand for those happy to put down their fruity cocktail for a moment. And, a word of advice, I wasn't kidding about the grass skirt: there'll be prizes for best dressed. Start preparing that half-coconut bikini top right now.
No longer must you while away the hours in dark, ornate rooms, whispering the words of Keats, Byron and Shelley to yourself like a mantra. Closet Romantics, now is the time to confess. Shroud yourself in mystery and prepare for your hair to be gorgeously windswept: your chance for irrational dalliance is at hand. Air your aesthetic preferences, flamboyant dress and emotional baggage in the bright, sunlit gardens of Vaucluse House for this themed, 19th century picnic. Don your costume and bring along a prepared picnic basket — or, if this proves too logistically challenging, simply pre-order one from the House's tea rooms. Debut your most intimate poems or opt to listen to those of the masters, and apply your talents to sketch or paint the surrounds. The more sporting among you can test yourselves at a game of croquet, while those more leisurely may prefer to enjoy the strains of Beethoven and Schubert and perhaps a spot of conversation. And if you're historically curious, or simply seeking a mysterious corner, tours of the house will also be on offer. Image by Daniel Boud.
If gypsy-punk, moustaches, thick Ukrainian accents, screaming guitars, tongue-in-cheek lyrics and singalongs squeeze your proverbial squeezebox, then this is the show for you. Gogol Bordello are a multicultural ensemble that started out in Manhattan's Lower East Side. Their members range from Russian accordion players to Scottish-born Hong Kong Chinese percussionists, to Ukranian-born political refugee Eugene Hutz. Hutz is the enigmatic front man and founder of the band, the one that looks like a poster boy for moustache wax and revolutionary military wear. And Gogol Bordello is the epitomisation of Hutz's outlook and political beliefs — a punk rock party that takes Romani roots and introduces them to a wider audience within tales of sordid debauchery and America's absurdity. Gogol Bordello and Hutz himself have been documented heavily in film and have crept into popular culture: docos chart the band's career and Hutz's yearly sabbatical to Eastern Europe (The Pied Piper of Hutzovina), and Hutz starred in Madonna's directorial debut Filth and Wisdom and played the lovable, honky Alex in Everything Is Illuminated, which also features the band's music. The band live up to their gypsy ideals, touring non-stop, their live show a chaotic mix of accordion and fast-paced punk jams with thick Ukrainian patois, dancing backup singers, and a 50-something-year-old shredding on the violin. https://youtube.com/watch?v=elyQ4ShVw-Y
It's the documentary that caused all the fuss at last year's Melbourne International Film Festival. The one that resulted in a diplomatic scuffle, three Chinese directors withdrawing their films from the festival, and the hacking of the MIFF website to the tune of an estimated $50,000 in lost ticket sales. Now it's time for Sydney to see what all the fuss is about. Andrew Urban is hosting a one-off Q&A screening with the film's writer/director Jeff Daniels, presenting the story of the tenacious Rebiya Kadeer and her ongoing struggle against the Chinese government over the contested Xingjiang region — the ancestral land of the ethnic Muslim Uighur people. After six years in gaol and a subsequent six spent in exile in America, Kadeer is a passionate and complex leader who has been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize and also made headlines during the July 2009 riots in Ürümqi. https://youtube.com/watch?v=qxiGQ9uacgs
The very large building that is Customs House is currently filled with a number of very small worlds. The first of these is the city model: covering the centre of the ground floor, this is an unavoidable part of your visit. Accurately reconstructed, the city of Sydney is splayed out like a toy town underneath your feet. Slightly strange, sure, but we've all seen architectural models before. It isn't long before your gaze starts wandering and a hypnotic sight draws you towards the right side of the room, where the real action is happening. Bright screens play randomised scenes of Sydney life in what appears to be miniature format. It is bizarre and hypnotic to see all this familiar detail as if you were playing Sim City. What initially seems like a simulation soon gives itself away. Surely those citizens are too lifelike to be Lego? These scenes too complex and random to be animation? What you are in fact watching is Keith Loutit's series of short films featuring real, everyday people and places. By playing with time and focus, Loutit creates the illusion of miniaturisation, which he uses to make familiar sites seem strange. It's a disorienting technique, which feels simultaneously uncanny and nostalgic to the observer. Mardi Gras, Bondi Beach and Hulkmania are highlights among the spectacles, but with so many to choose from, you're certain to find something close to home.
Sliding into the slipstream of the coming Sydney Fashion Week is a festival of a more irreverent, grass-roots variety. An event about "culture, creativity and bringing people together", Sizzle is Bondi's answer to the much-loved Surry Hills Fest. The four-day festival will cover just about every angle in celebration of the arts, beach culture and Bondi's unique community. Events include the re-painting of the infamous graffiti wall by some of the town's most celebrated artists, as well as exhibitions, live music, pop-up cinema and a classic Bondi garage sale on steroids (the biggest ever, they say). Local businesses will be showing their support by offering community cards redeemable during the slower winter months, and select cafes and restaurants will offer up a customised dish inspired by their love of Bondi. Of course, what would a Bondi festival be without a surf comp of some kind? Curated by Sam McIntosh of Stab magazine, pros and plebs alike of any age are encouraged to get a 'soft-on' in a pirate-themed soft board competition featuring special guests and VIP judges. So, if you've had it up to your Balenciagas with fashion caper and are craving some artsy street culture and a bit of barefoot fun, park your car in the next suburb, wander the streets of this beachside beauty and discover what New Zealanders have known all along. https://youtube.com/watch?v=XQRtFvUBTQU
Bigger isn't always better; unless, of course, you're Tony Stark. And taking the lead from their titular hero, director Jon Favreau and screenwriter Justin Theroux (Tropic Thunder) have crammed more explosions and stars into Iron Man 2 than is superhumanly possible. This suped-up sequel has an awful lot of fun gallivanting around with big guns and even bigger egos, as the likes of Scarlett Johansson, Samuel L. Jackson, Mickey Rourke, Sam Rockwell and Don Cheadle join the party with Robert Downey Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow and Favreau himself. The storyline follows on immediately from the first film, with Russian rival Ivan Vanko (Rourke) threatening Stark's monopoly on privatised peace with his menacingly public display of iron man technology. Nursing a bruised ego on top of his already broken heart, Stark struggles to find a cure for his rising blood toxicity, alienating Pepper (Paltrow) and Rhodes (Cheadle) in the process. Meanwhile, a politically ambitious competitor, Justin Hammer (Rockwell), unites with Vanko to show Stark up at his own technology expo. If all of that sounds like a lot to cram into two hours, then you're absolutely right. After the relatively sedate origin story, Iron Man 2 cranks the dial up to 11, jumping around at an impressive click to work in the characters, and all but elbowing out the original cast in the process. Paltrow's Pepper Pots may get bumped up to CEO of Stark Industries, but her role is woefully downgraded to mincing around in Louboutins and shrieking in distress. The sexually charged repartee between Pepper and Stark that invigorated the first film is barely present, though it is partially reassigned to Pepper's replacement, the sultry provocateur Johnasson as the Black Widow. With Downey Jr. getting a lot less screen time, Rockwell steps up to entertain, playing Hammer as a mealy-mouthed weasel who is abundantly generous with his fake tan. Rourke is suitably malevolent and Johansson impresses in her action scene, with Samuel L. Jackson on hand to deliver his trademark cheese. And for purists, Cheadle's appropriation of Terrence Howard's original role is reflexively dispatched in his opening line, "It's me, I'm here. Deal with it. Move on" As a sequel, Iron Man 2 delivers in scale, enthusiasm and a soundtrack of thumping base. Not all the amped up action works (the fight between Stark and Rhodes feels laboriously manufactured), but ultimately this is Robert Downey Jr.'s gig, and he effortlessly entertains as the narcissistic, nihilistic rascal you love to envy. The film's standout scene is Stark's opening senatorial address, where Downey Jr. sizzles in his character's cocksure antics. If only Favreau had given us a bit more Stark to go with all that Iron Man. https://youtube.com/watch?v=siQgD9qOhRs
What would happen if Peter Rabbit ditched his little blue jacket, stopped playing games with the duck and went crazy? Well, he’d probably be shot, dipped in formaldehyde and stored in a New Zealand museum awaiting Neil Pardington’s photographic exploration, The Vault. Taxidermy animals have always scared the bejesus out of me and Pardington’s wide-eyed rabbits, dopey looking deer and fine-feathered friends make you ponder their life and death. The front gallery of Grant Pirrie, like a diorama of death, confounds with elegant, large, robustly coloured photographs admirable in spite — or perhaps because — of the subject. Birds’ plumage is precisely preserved and as monkeys swing and play and the polar bear and bison advance, you feel the suspended grandeur and energy of these animals. The adjacent room is filled with photos of dismembered mannequins (one clad fashionably in a hat and fur) which are somehow more sinister than their zoomorphic counterparts — maybe because they resemble us and have been stripped of everything, even their hair.
No offence to anyone who may have been born with the surname Conway, but in the world of Andrew Lancaster's new film Accidents Happen, it is an unfortunate birthright. The film opens with Billy Conway witnessing the tragic demise of his elderly neighbour at the hand of a barbecue and a bit too much accelerant — and it all goes downhill from there. After this disturbing event, the Conway family head along to the cinema to try and distract young Billy from the vision of his melting neighbour; however, due to their incredible bad luck, another accident befalls the poor Conways, which will have far reaching consequences for all of their lives. The rest of the story follows the older Billy (Harrison Gilbertson), eight years after the accident, dealing with life in his own particular way when his mother, brother and father have all given up or escaped from reality. Filmed in Australia with an all-Australian cast and crew (bar Geena Davis and the writer, Brian Carbee), it's confusing as to why they decided to use American accents and pretend that the whole thing was actually shot in the great US of A. But this is something that you can get over, just, if only just, to give the whole thing a bit of a chance. Starting off as a short film, (which perhaps it suited this form more, though that wouldn't allow for as many of Mamma Conway (Davis)'s spectacularly confused pearls of wisdom), this story is a bit of a slow burn. While I found myself beginning this review in my head halfway through the film, I also got quite caught up in the story and there was a definite tear by the end. Not many of the characters are entirely likeable, but that is often the point. The film is testimony to the fact that shit happens, and humans can only deal with this fact in the best way that they can — in that, Lancaster has certainly hit the nail on the head. And while its not perfect, neither are we, and so we might as well just get on with it and let ourselves get lost in the story and let the many accidents happen. https://youtube.com/watch?v=wHuDce7LYD0
Fashion. Never has there been such an infectious strain of creative expression, popping up in everything like flavour enhancer, sweetening the contents of artistic mediums it previously had not much to do with. But I guess that’s the beauty of this current era of post-post modernism: no creative field of work sits in isolation from another. Fusion has become the way of the future, and artists are appropriating other genres like music and fashion in unique and innovative ways. In celebration of artistic fusion and the relationship between fashion and the arts, Being Born Again fashion couture show will present 10 collaborative works of well-known Australian designers, including Akira Isogawa and Marnie Skillings, paired with equally esteemed visual artists such as Lindy Lee and Tracey Moffat, to name a few. The show will be held at the National Art School one week prior to Rosemount Australian Fashion Week, and artists will showcase their work on garments specifically designed to reflect their individual aesthetic, providing a unique, bespoke canvas for their compositions. Cited as “a visceral and intellectual experience at the intersection of art, fashion, music, installation and design” Being Born Again couture show on Thursday, April 22 is the first of what is intended as an annual event and will feature Miss Zahra Stardust on the trapeze, Andy Uprock with his ‘cuprocking’ light display concept and J.D. Reformer and Rosie Deacon with their respective gold and animal installations. The evening's musical cheer will be provided by Washington, WIM and Jack Colwell & the Owls, stacking up to a great night of artistic diversity.
The End is the story of the demise of a man. Alone, without purpose, this unnamed man is contained within the existentialist void, nothingness, hovering around the (literally represented) light of his existence. He is difficult, insane, unlikable and resists all attempts at kindness. At the same time, he is subject to unjustifiable cruelties, which he accepts in exactly the same way as kindnesses. In this play, Samuel Beckett overwhelms our critical judgment to present insanity as the only sane response to an insane world, an absurd existence which has no reprieve. Discussing 'the play' as Beckett intended is no accident: the Beckett estate is notorious for exerting pressure to ensure that productions conform strictly to the author's intention. Many will remember a notorious clash between Beckett's nephew Edward Beckett and Neil Armfield over Company B's production of Waiting for Godot. When chastised for his inclusion of "illegal" music, Armfield famously labelled the Beckett estate "the enemy of art". Eamon Flack's production of The End, on the other hand, is one which we imagine both Becketts certainly would have approved of. This is not at all to suggest that the play was "almost without direction", as I overheard one audience member comment; instead, it is a testimony to the imagination and arduous labour necessary to stage such a strong, compelling and moving production. Flack's direction works stunningly with Teegan Lee's lighting design to embody the 'void' and the character's struggle within and against it. Lee's subtle lighting surrounds actor Robert Menzies with defined black shadows, occasionally blurring and blending these to echo the character's confusion. At moments, cold white light pins Menzies to his stage marker, a small taped cross, or gently releases him into the inky blackness. Reductive movement places an emphasis on Menzies' physicality, and his control is nothing short of breathtaking. From the moment he steps (literally) through the door, the audience is captivated — even when we are completely alienated from the character, a simple gesture can make us laugh or fill us with shame. In its creative take on suspension, timelessness and the surreal, this production is a powerful, unique and intimate presentation of The End and Beckett's work as a whole. Image by Heidrun Löhr.
What do you do if you're going on that first date and your brain can't suggest anything better than "get drunk, go dancing, do it horizontal"? While some experts would recommend eating candles for dinner (or something along those lines), the creative geniuses of Rotozaza have a bit of amazing up their sleeve: Etiquette. Two audience members sit down at a table and each put on a pair of headphones. As simple as that, they're now the performers in an intimate show, carrying out the instructions whispered through their ears. Acclaimed from all around the world, this half hour will alter your perception of theatre's capabilities and the role that the audience plays within it. This may even get you laid.
My Brightest Diamond is the project of singer/composer Shara Worden. You might have seen her open for Sufjan Stevens a few years back at the Sydney Festival: she was the coiffured, young songstress that did a mix of rock, punk and heavily orchestrated, operatic pop. You could put her in the same bag as Tori Amos, Kate Bush or even Bjork. She also played in Sufjan's band, and he puts out her records on the label that he founded with his stepfather, Asthmatic Kitty. Artists on the label share a common love of strings, pianos, harps and brass. They stretch the pop format, taking their roots in conventional songs and then experimenting with sounds and arrangements. This progressive approach has served Worden well, and has particularly caught the eye of Velvet Underground alumnus John Cale, who picked her to play a Nico tribute in Italy, and Cale's ol'-grumpy-bum partner in crime Lou Reed, who, along with Laurie Anderson, has asked My Brightest Diamond to perform at the Vivid Live Festival in June.
Dizzy after a weekend celebrating winning Best Track of 2010 at the NME Awards in London last Thursday (not to mention performing live alongside Lily Allen), the band that everyone in Britain is banging on about, Big Pink, have touched down in Australia and are playing the Metro Theatre on Sunday. Get out your lighters, this is the kind of soaring euphoric rock that could get entire sports arenas swaying. The duo will be performing their winning song, the infectious anthem 'Dominos' (which, despite it's initially irritating lyrics, I find myself humming in the car whenever it comes on the radio), alongside abstract, dreamy, electro-rock tracks from their debut album A Brief History of Love. Try and catch these guys before they no doubt return to Australia at the end of the year to play to the masses at the Big Day Out. https://youtube.com/watch?v=Kzsr3L9ggRM
Take one look at Tasia and you're her kitten forever. This Sydney burlesque star has shimmied her way through numerous eras — as one third of the Belladonnas de Lux and in her own international solo career — wowing audiences through the nostalgic exotica of the cheeky tease. When Tasia takes to the stage the world becomes nothing more than a spotlight and the feeling that you've smoked a whole ounce of Tom Waits through your ears. And now she's at the Vanguard to serve up lunch for three damn tasty, melted cheese evenings. Taking turns to plate up entertainment are Lillian Starr, Katherine Lambent, Erin Black, Anthony Howe and jack of all underground trades, Jay Katz.
In an awfully racist book called Voodoo in New Orleans, 1940s writer Robert Tallant describes a voodoo priest — a freed slave who claimed to be a Senegalese prince. According to the book, the priest claimed to have 15 wives and 50 children, and wore a frilly white shirt. He specialized in curses, clairvoyance and selling 'gris-gris'. His name was Dr. John. Around the same time as Tallant wrote Voodoo, Mac 'Dr. John' Renneback was born in New Orleans. He started out as a session musician, providing backing for Canned Heat, among others, and released his debut album Gris-Gris in 1968. This first record is indisputably his best and, although he has since adjusted his act, still indicative of Dr. John's essence. It is unrefined, noisy and more satisfying than a big bowl of gumbo. Dr. John has drawn much from his namesake's legacy. His 1960s stage persona was one of a psychedelic voodoo king, with robes, headdresses and the occasional chant. These days, he's swapped the robes for suits and hats but has kept the feathered staff and magical presence — he's not known as the Night Tripper for nothing, you know. https://youtube.com/watch?v=HL6fIpLYj4Y
As Sydneysiders you should be goddamned proud of the Necks. They are one of our finest ever exports. Since the late 1980s when they started playing together in a school hall, they have released countless albums (including a new one, Silverwater), amazed audiences around the world with their live shows, and made film scores — whilst also individually releasing records and collaborating with a veritable smorgasbord of jazz and pop greats (see Tim Finn, the Sydney Symphony, Branford Marsalis, Paul Grabowsky, etc). Their live sets are the stuff of legend, with performances usually consisting of one hour of uninterrupted improvised music. The trio of Chris Abrahams on piano, Tony Buck on drums, and Lloyd Swanton on upright bass build layer upon layer of sound that can oscillate between masterfully cinematic, atmospheric music and brutal, dissonant noise, enveloping the audience into their trance like state without ever alienating them. I would suggest snapping up presales for this one, as the group only play here once in a while. https://youtube.com/watch?v=LWnpmmVWz7A
