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Georgia Fields and the Freeways
Manchester Lane - July 24 2008
Ms. Fields and co. have been causing quite a stir on the indy folk scene throughout the past year, and the pot is reaching an almost boiling-point of new star creation. And that new star—backed-up by a crowd spilling out the doors at a boutique venue (Manchester Lane) on a cold Thursday night—should rightly burn for Georgia Fields and her slow driving Freeway band, with a standout performance of eclectic quirky pop confirming the purport of her talent and deservedness.
Boasting an “indy-folk orchestra” to back up Ms. Fields’ gorgeous vocal, tonight’s gig was somewhat of an extravaganza compared with her weekly stripped-back acoustic shows. Tonight was glitz and glamour, comparatively, with brass, electrified guitars, choir, harp and—no kidding—a drill and children’s toys. Even a soft-drink can had its sequence of melodious input.
But it wasn’t quite the raucous performance that may be interpreted: you could hear a pin drop in many of the breakdowns, and Ms. Fields certainly does test a audience’s listening diligence, with only the occasional drunk rebelling with an inability to contain a “We love you George!” midway through a pianissimo segue. But the heckle goes unpunished. Justified by the mass agreement, perhaps.
There is no doubt young Georgia was nervous; the turnout and applause-volume maybe surprising her a little, but there was no show of it in the songs (in her awkward between-song speeches, perhaps yes, but even that is endearing, like a kid with new skates falling over).
Her stunning EP was brought to a new life with the added instrumentation, and some new songs (notably Satellite, written by her sidekick extraordinaire, Judith Hamann) promise further acclaim whenever the next recording comes along. In the mean time, you’ll have to see it live, and you may just find yourself humming “This could be the start of something beautiful” as you leave, with a touch a prophetic hope. Only, this reviewer would argue, it’s already started.
This 4-song package by Melbourne outfit Spun Rivals is a nifty display of hooks, jaggered riffing and displays a promising future for this style of song writing. It's not punk, nor rock, nor pop—but a little of each. Post-punk indie new-wave is what the press release says, and as broad as that sounds, it feels kind of appropriate.
Scottish singer/guitarist Rich Davies Jr. has a whiny way with vocals, but mixed with some devilishly distorted bass lines and hammering drums, it works as kind of contrasting colour in a rainbow.
Nineteen Ninety Eight is clearly the single-track here, even though it doesn’t really follow the formula of your average radio single. There's a good chorus and bouncy verses, but half way through, it ventures into weirder territory and doesn't really come back—which is really effective, as it makes you want to listen again. And perhaps more importantly, gets you thinking, why is he so sorry about 1998? What happened? I'm sure answer is in the lyrics, but as with all things catchy, I only remember the grunt of the chorus: "I'm so sorry about 1998!"
My favourite track out of the four is We Fixed Headaches with Chemicals, which delves into prog-rock territory and is the most unusual arrangement on this EP. It's a hard edge industrial flavoured assortment of riffs and electronica without much vocal. It rolls along like a car crash—one that is really damn interesting to watch from a distance.
Money Song is a nice acoustic melody about how much time is wasted trying to make money and not enjoying the finer things like living and getting drunk. You sometimes feel that it could have gotten angrier, though the dichotomy of lyrical content with sweet acoustic guitar chords is a neat little trick.
An Ordinary Man sees fellow Melbournites 'Little Red' helping out with vocals, and is perhaps the other contender for radio play. It's a little more traditional than the first track, and is—in this reviewer's opinion—precisely the reason why it isn't as appealing. But that said, it rounds off the EP nicely and ultimately begs another listen, which is all an EP can hope to do.
By Daniel Vigilante
It’s something everyone has imagined doing at least once—wishing they could disappear completely and never be found. But we’re not talking about anything too gloomy; just the chance to start again, fresh, with say.....a new identity, which is exactly the premise behind this wonderfully sharp and often haunting play by British playwright, Fin Kennedy.
The story follows the tribulations of hot-shot advertising executive, Charlie Hunt; young, attractive, successful—and totally fucking out of his wits. We follow Charlie through a whirlpool of characters who offer glimpses into a life that has reached boiling point, jumping back and forth in time to reveal the daily perturbations of work colleagues, marketing schemes and entrepreneurial cocks that are sure to drive anyone over the edge.
And so it does. Charlie cracks. Not to mention takes crack (pardon the terrible pun), and takes lots of it. It’s one of his many vices, but what the fuck, he can afford it, he’s a hot-shot. But what he can’t afford is his sanity. So he takes a visit to an old family friend, Mike (whom he bumped into at his mother’s funeral), and this is where Charlie’s life really gets turned upside down.
Mike can give Charlie a new external identity: birth certificate, credit card, passport. Obliterate his old existence. The problem is that no one can change the internal person—except Charlie.
It’s a brilliant script of sharp dialogue, dark humour with plenty of room for philosophical musings, and is brought to the fore with mighty performances all-round. Michael Cahill is sensational with every one of his characters, while David Passmore is equally impressive with the less dynamic protagonist, Charlie. Glen Hancox does some great exaggerated stereotypes, while Helen Hopkins and Tory Rodd fill their assorted roles with thorough diligence. Paul King’s direction keeps an upbeat pace but still allows for a certain pathos that often has you sick with an observable familiarity.
By Daniel Vigilante
Kate Ceberano is not only one of Australia’s most loved and accomplished artists, she’s also one of our most prolific. The release of ‘So Much Beauty’ this month is her 17th full length album, and if, like wine, artists only get better with age, this may very well prove to be her best release yet. And that’s exactly the purport Kate herself put forth, as she explained to me in a friendly and lively chat. “I think this is one of my favourite albums ever. I’m usually very shy about saying things like that because obviously we like to like our own work, but I very rarely listen to my old stuff, and this is an album that I’ve already been listening to quite a bit. I’m enjoying something about it
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Philip Seymour Hoffman can’t seem to put a foot wrong lately, and this latest effort only testifies to the fact. With another stand out performance in The Savages (see review in earlier post) also currently out at the cinemas, you’d be hard pressed to find a decent screening that doesn’t have Hoffman involved. Ok a slight exaggeration, but you get the point, and in case you don’t, I’ll elucidate more clearly: Hoffman is a superstar.
The screenplay for this film is by and large the blueprint for its success. Having great actors bring it to life and a super sharp directional approach merely add icing to the cake. In a fast paced flow of events, it jumps back and forth in time to let you know of characters’ motivations, but not for a minute is it confusing.
Ethan Hawke as Hank Hanson is perfectly cast as a stress ridden divorcee with massive financial troubles (and emotional complexes), who is lured by his brother, Andy Hanson (Hoffman), to rob a “mom and pa” jewellery store. The only catch is, the store Andy has in mind is their actual mom and pa’s jewellery store which they have grown up working at and hence know the ins and outs of its functioning. That may already be giving away a little surprise that was set for the viewer about 20 minutes in, so I won’t spoil any more of the plot, except to say (and this isn’t spoiling anything as it occurs in the opening scene) that it goes drastically wrong
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Beckett Theatre - until May 4
Buy Tickets
Adapting Shakespeare to the stage is a difficult task. There are many areas in which to go devastatingly wrong. Yet the task is made all the more harder when the adaptation is not made from a set-out play with notes and instructions, but rather from a poem of, let’s say, timeless literary merit. But that’s exactly what this groundbreaking collaboration between the Malthouse Theatre and Bell Shakespeare attempts, and the result is a startling and moving depiction of desire, rejection and the inextricable pain bound with love
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The Savages tells the story of two siblings, Wendy (Laura Linny) and Jon (Philip Seymour Hoffman), who must band together to care for their elderly father, Lenny Savage (played by Philip Bosco). The siblings have practically avoided their father for a number of years, citing a difficult family history—which included the domineering nature of their father—as the reason for their shunning him in adult life. But with an ailing dementia getting worse by the day and the death of his girlfriend, there’s no one left to look after poor old dad except Wendy and Jon.
The two of them initially try to put Lenny in a nursing home, but Wendy gets obsessed with the idea and concludes, after thorough research, that there are better nursing homes around and that dad must have the best one. Jon is not so enthusiastic as his sister, and sees the whole episode as a distraction from what he really should be doing, which is writing a book on Brechtian Theatre. His pragmatic approach is often starkly contrasted with Wendy’s new found empathy for her father and the conflict of interest often produces some funny moments
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Movie Review
From writers/producers/directors Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer (“Date Movie”, “Epic Movie”), comes another wannabe comedy that has you scratching your head, wondering ‘somebody is actually letting these guys make another movie?’ And more worrying still, ‘somebody is actually endorsing this as a legitimate feature film?’
Using the film “300” as the basis for their latest spoof, the film makes no apologies for its bad taste and cheap jokes, and we get this from the opening ‘joke’: a baby Shrek looking for some nipple action who then spews up everywhere. And that’s the whole comedy ethos in a nutshell right there: spoofs on other films, tit jokes and mucus. If you left after the opening 30 seconds, you can rest assured that you didn’t miss anything
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