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Melbourne Comedy Festival – Contact! Where Netball Meets Opera and Collides with Suburbia

April 13th 2012 05:36
Angus Grant’s Contact! is a jewel in this year’s Melbourne Comedy Festival. Workshopped at the Arts Centre at the beginning of 2011, it’s back, bigger, better and funnier in 2012. It’s the story of the training and playing trials and tribulations of the Hyatt Park Rangers netball team, their redoubtable coach Bev and her twins, Wendy and Bevan. Angus Grant and Kate Shmitt have woven elements of bogan suburbia into their witty libretto, and Grant has ably scored the opera for a small orchestra of percussion, strings and piano.

The ensemble singing is strong throughout, there are passages where good diction is required and achieved, and the choreography cleverly reflects the movements around a netball court in the confined spaces of the Fairfax Theatre. The pace of the show and its storylines leave no time for boredom, just some good belly laughs.


There are several stand-out performances, led by dramatic soprano Donna-Maree Dunlop as Bev. Blessed with a fine comic sense and an ability to sing through big dramatic lines, (think, Bev’s kitchen and the tactics table) the diminutive soprano has a huge stage presence and the voice to match, but doesn’t take herself too seriously. Brenton Spiteri gives a polished performance as Bevan, his light tenor voice in stark contrast to Dunlop’s. Honourable mention goes to soprano Janet Todd as Daisy.

Contact! is playing at the Fairfax Theatre until April 29th. See it and join in the fun!
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My Journey with Dame Kiri Te Kanawa - Part I

November 4th 2011 04:14
I haven't posted too much recently about any of my musical passions, but the following should change that. I have long since been a massive fan of Dame Kiri Te Kanawa, and this details my journey and some of the influence she has had on me....

I was an impressionable 16 year old who, at the end of a balmy Sunday evening towards the end of Summer 1984, had just finished my homework and was looking for some relaxation ahead of a big week in my penultimate year at school.

Having stepped out of the shower and now in my pyjamas, I fumbled myopically towards the television to get a closer look at a singer who arrested me aurally in a way that had never happened before. On closer inspection it appeared she was having a lot of fun on the Sydney Opera House stage too. Who was this woman with the most beautiful almond-shaped eyes I’d ever seen? Where was she from? And that voice! She was about to make more of an impression on me than I could have realised at the time. The concert was being simulcast across Australia and the house seemed full to overflowing, and she was singing an encore which told the audience if they wanted more they had to sing it themselves. Cheeky!


Her name was Kiri Te Kanawa; being a Maori name there was no chance I would forget it, although it took me a few tries to say it correctly! Not only did she possess a silken, velvety voice, the joy she displayed whilst performing left an indelible mark on me, and she was also extraordinarily beautiful. I was intrigued. After rehearsing and then memorising her name, I resolved to buy at least one of her recordings during the course of the year, and it changed my life and bank balance!

Some months later I was perusing the 24 Hours magazine, the conduit into the world of the classical music that was my lifeblood. It was here that I again encountered the Maori name meaning “bell”, and a review of her new recording of Canteloube’s Chants d’Auvergne. I immediately decided to buy them – I was a budding French student at the time, and the dialect in which these songs were sung encouraged me to investigate the song texts further. (I learned that French verbs had not changed very much in the modern language, and that helped with both my understanding of these songs and my learning of the language.) On examining the covers of these LPs, one could have been mistaken for thinking Kiri was a supermodel, not a diva. It was a sad day when CD technology took over and there was no longer album artwork to look at. (despite the advances in sound.) The lush orchestral arrangements transported me straight into the Auvergne region of France, the piano replaced the harp in the arrangements which made them appetising, and they were also a perfect vehicle for Kiri’s warm lyric soprano voice. I could almost have told you the villages where every shepherd and shepherdess lived on those two volumes of music! I was a sponge at the time, ripe to absorb everything from music to language and travel! Thanks to Kiri and Canteloube, I was totally hooked on opera, and I listened to those songs every day for the next two years at least. They supported me through two tough years of study, Kiri made me laugh with her yips and yelps, transported me into a place of endless beauty and inspired me to explore some of the most beautiful operatic arias and repertoire I’d ever heard. Those songs will always have a special place in my heart, but I was only just embarking on this journey.

I arrived home from school one Winter’s day in 1985, to my father advising me to go and look inside an envelope on the bed in my parents’ room, but not to get too excited about it. Curious, I had to investigate this great mystery. I discovered a glossy brochure with a single red rose and a spotlight on it. Unfolding the paper, I read the four magic words across the top – Dame Kiri Te Kanawa – in concert in my hometown, that September! She hadn’t performed in Melbourne since winning the Sun Aria competition 20 years earlier. Barely able to contain my excitement, I began to pester my father every day for I don’t know how long afterwards to buy us tickets to the concert.

He did buy us tickets, in about row G of the stalls, and to this day I still have them – I did a good job pestering him, it seems. We weren’t too far away from the stage at all. I remember that Kiri sang Vissi d’Arte, the aria with which she’d won the Sun Aria competition at the Melbourne Town Hall, so I was delighted to be part of this history. (Had it REALLY been twenty years since she’d performed in Melbourne?) She was at the peak of her powers and I was totally mesmerised, giving her a standing ovation (along with many others) at the end of the concert. It was an unforgettable experience to be enveloped by that velvety blanket of sound resonating through the concert hall, my heart and soul that evening. It was also the first of many times I heard her sing Po Kare Kare – it was hard not to be moved. I was floating on my cloud for some time afterwards, on this the first of many times I experienced the dame in concert.

When Dame Kiri visited Melbourne in 1985 she gave an interview on ABC radio, and one of the topics for discussion was Richard Strauss’ Four Last Songs. She had made a recording in 1979 (the first of two), the interviewer played “September” and that piqued my curiosity again. What was all the fuss about with these songs? Why did they hold such pride of place in the hearts of singers, critics and audiences alike? I subsequently bought this recording, and learned what the songs are about. They are the tender and contemplative settings of four random poems that were grouped together (by publishers after Strauss’ death), written deep in the autumn of his life, about death. Great soprano after great soprano has recorded them, generating wild argument or critical acclaim, and in 1988, Dame Kiri returned to Melbourne to perform them. The following year she re-recorded them with Sir Georg Solti.
These songs are special to me, as they are to millions of others. I have both of Kiri’s recordings, along with two others. My loyalty on the interpretation of them will always remain with Kiri, because it was she who introduced me to them in the first place. I am lucky to have had exposure to such beauty over so many years now. The 1979 recording is never far from my reach and will always be a source of great comfort to me.

On the particular evening in question back in 1988, we heard the Exsultate Jubilate, penned by the precocious 16 year old Mozart, and the Four Last Songs by Strauss. I was delighted the dame was back in town, but to be quite honest, underwhelmed by her performance that evening. I cannot explain why. It didn’t matter anyway. What did matter was the live experience of these majestic songs, sung by my favourite soprano. I couldn’t ask for more, and to express my gratitude that evening, I presented Dame Kiri with a bouquet of flowers at the end of the concert. She crouched down to accept them and waited for me to say something to her, but I couldn’t. As I peered into those brown almonds, I was dumbstruck. I felt such a fool! She thanked me, and I clumsily blurted out, “No, thank YOU!” It was embarrassing and I felt I’d missed an opportunity to say something meaningful to the dame.

The following year in July Dame Kiri returned to Melbourne to perform Mimi in the Victoria State Opera season of Puccini’s La Boheme. Again, I was privileged enough to see this, but under a cloud of grief. I had lost my father two months earlier – it was a bitter disappointment to me that he never saw Kiri perform on stage, as I had, as I know he would have loved it.
Dame Kiri did not disappoint – she was again at her peak and played to packed houses for the eight performances of the season, one of which was televised. They were the hottest tickets in town. I know this because I tried to get a seat for a second performance, to no avail. For a second time I bought a posy of flowers and sent them around to the stage door with a note. After my experience the previous year I didn’t quite have the courage to plant myself at the stage door and wait there to speak to the dame. (I left that to the old dears who frequently did this, as I didn’t feel I could compete!)
In the note I wrote what I couldn’t say earlier, and told her of my father’s death. I didn’t think too much more about it until a letter arrived late that year. It had an English stamp on it, which I found curious because I couldn’t think of anyone who would be writing to me from England, and the address was handwritten. The letter was from Kiri, thanking me for the flowers, expressing her sorrow at my father’s passing and encouraging me in my musical career. Just as I still have my first Kiri concert ticket, I also still have this letter which buoyed me at a time when life was throwing curve balls.
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5-Star Hotels and Hollandaise Sauce – Do they really think their patrons are that stupid?

December 9th 2010 03:02
I recently decided to try and make hollandaise sauce, and yes, I’ve become quite an old hand at it – this would suggest I know what the actual ingredients are then. Last weekend I decided I’d treat myself to a night in a swanky hotel in the city centre after my office Christmas party. So I made my last minute booking, had a girlfriend tag along, and decided I’d really lash out and prepay for breakfast while I enjoyed my ‘modern, minimalist’ room. (so why did the bathroom basins look like a hospital basin?)
On the morning after the night before, and feeling seedy, I decided to order poached eggs with smoked salmon and hollandaise sauce. You can imagine my disappointment when the smoked salmon was the best part of the whole meal. The eggs arrived, having previously whirled around in their eddy for some time apparently; if they’d been cooked any longer they would have morphed into prunes. Welcome to disappointment number one. Disappointment number two arrived on tasting the ‘hollandaise’ sauce, which had clearly come straight from a packet. The flavour had a strange air of familiarity about it, the kind of familiarity you feel when you go to a (pretty B-grade) function with alternating, mass-produced meals. This ‘hollandaise’, tinged with curry powder, would be laughed out of town by any French person.
I decided I’d complain about this, and the fact I was told it would take 20 minutes to produce the breakfast whilst it actually took 50. Apparently this hotel uses only organic this and that. I almost asked if that includes the egg yolks, butter and lemon juice that should have gone into the hollandaise? Clearly their definition of organic is totally artificial! This particular manager persisted in his attempts to explain his way out of this organic debate, but for me it was totally futile. If the chef is not watching his eggs poaching, there’s no way he’s standing around ensuring his hollandaise is fresh, organic, and not curdling!
So now that I’ve had a bit of a venting session, the moral of my story is don’t be fooled into thinking these so-called 5-star hotels don’t cut corners, because they do. I’ve watched enough Gordon Ramsay to know that if you can’t produce what’s on the menu with fresh ingredients at least, then remove the item from the menu! Oh and yes, the hotel compensated me, they knocked $100 off my bill – wouldn’t you think that if they REALLY cared, they would have offered another night’s accommodation, free?
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What Does Music Give Us? III – The Ponderings Continue…..

June 22nd 2010 04:09
As a musician I am always pondering this question – above all, I think music ennobles us and serves as a reminder that Man, through the achievements of many of the great composers, is separated in a positive way from the rest of all living creatures. Or at least, that’s what it should do – I think the times I listen to music the most are those times when I’m trying to fathom some disgusting piece of human behaviour – music, through its beauty and its ability to move in a spiritual way, comforts in those difficult times and reminds me to be optimistic about what human beings are capable of, and about what we should be striving for each day.

Quite apart from that, I think I can illustrate what music gives me by mentioning my favourite singer, Bebel Gilberto. She is capable of changing my mood from feeling just OK to feeling happy in the course of one song, her music carries me to places both geographical and emotional that can’t be reached through any other means. I don't think there's too much more to be said about it than that


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Comfort Food and Random Food Thoughts

June 22nd 2010 03:51
What is your favourite comfort food? Mine would have to be one of the simplest things of all in the kitchen, the humble soft-boiled egg, on buttered toast with lots of salt and pepper. This is as a result of my pre-school days with my mother, sitting up in a high chair in the kitchen, with a mashed (hard) boiled egg with salt and pepper and buttered bread torn up and mixed in with it. We would listen to the sharemarket results on the radio whilst I enjoyed this feast. The radio didn’t thrill me all that much, but the eggs certainly did, as does the recollection of my mother and me together when I was a tot.

These days though I like the eggs I’m to boil to be at room temperature, otherwise when they hit the boiling water the eggshell splits and precious egg white oozes into the water, meaning an imperfect egg on my toast and a messy pot to wash. (the perfect food must be presented with respect!) I boil my water first and then add the eggs to the pot – carefully and gently – with tongs and I then set my watch to time the boiling duration. (4 minutes for me.) Yes, it’s all very anal but I really do like my eggs to be soft rather than hard and I’d rather fuss about that and really enjoy what I eat than eat a hard boiled egg that belongs in a salad! Who would have thought nature could create a meal in the perfect packaging and portion size like that? I’m Justas fussy with my scrambled eggs too, but I won’t go there, nor will I comment on cafés who employ ‘chefs’ who cannot poach an egg to save themselves but are quite unashamedly charging premium prices for the mush they serve


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The arrival of The Mac – Fleetwood Mac Unleashed Tour Dec. 1 - Melbourne

December 2nd 2009 05:06
I attended concert I never thought would happen in Melbourne – Fleetwood Mac performing their greatest hits, and in particular, some of the songs off the Rumours album, one of my all time favourites.

The keys of the songs may have dropped a semitone or two, but the old magic is still there, even without Christine McVie. Lindsey Buckingham is a master on guitar, and in my mind more of a master because he’s so unorthodox and cannot read music. It doesn’t matter though, because boy can he play. To my surprise the concert opened with Monday Morning, from the Fleetwood Mac album. This record was a success in its own right and I think it’s a little overshadowed because of the success of Rumours. It was great to hear songs such as I’m So Afraid, Landslide, Say You Love Me, and of course, Rhiannon


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Beethoven 4 - Australian Chamber Orchestra - Don't miss it!

November 16th 2009 03:08
Beethoven 4 - Hamer Hall, November 15th 2009.

Brett Dean's Testament provided the perfect introduction to Beethoven's 4th Piano Concerto and Symphony. Testatment is a depiction in sound of what Beethoven may have experienced physically and emotionally when losing his hearing, and the piece was brought masterfully to life by the orchestra under Richard Tognetti's direction. Contrasting soundscapes were created using a variety of orchestral effects to evoke the panic and fear - morendi, pizzicati, rosined and unrosined bow work, and slightly distorted sustained notes. Contrasting this was the transient call out to the slow movement of Beethoven's Op. 59 No. 1 String Quartet, followed by the final section with its sense of terror and urgency. These musical and formal elements all combined to great effect to depict the flickering of Beethoven's hearing and to stimulate audience empathy for the composer's plight


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Boris Berman Recital - Piano! No No NO!

August 17th 2009 03:03
Late last week I attended one of the ANAM Piano! 2009 recitals – that of Boris Berman. The recital began with selected Chopin Nocturnes, (Op. 15, Op. 27 and Op. 32). Many of the passages that were improvisatory in these night pieces sounded glossed over, and I’m undecided as to whether I think it was pure arrogance on the part of the artist, or that was the effect he was looking for - only he could tell us more about that. I cannot understand why a pianist of such skill would seek to glide over passages of virtuosity in a haze of pedal, but this is largely how it sounded. By all means reveal your pianistic virtuosity, (preferably without ego) but perhaps think more carefully about the spirit of the repertoire. This type of shimmering belongs in the music of Debussy and Ravel, not Chopin.

The Opus 27 No. 2 in D flat Nocturne has the tempo marking Lento Sostenuto (slowly and sustained) but what I heard was too fast. I also felt the manner in which he played was larger than the piece demanded, the fortissimos being almost heavy-handed, and the pedalling lacked clarity. These pieces are chromatic and must be pedalled with greater precision than I thought was shown on this evening – everything seemed to be half-pedalled with the overall effect being muddy – he was playing on a beautiful Steinway grand, and it deserved more respect than that. Over all the first half of this programme was disappointing – apart from anything else, there were more wrong notes than one would have expected from a concert pianist of this calibre, and there was simply no love in the playing


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Triple J Hottest 100 Songs Of All Time - Are They Kidding?

July 21st 2009 05:55
Recently a friend of mine posted the songs she had voted for in the Triple J Hottest 100 Songs of All Time poll on her Facebook profile. Curious, I decided I should investigate this phenomenon. I’m not one who likes to select definitive lists of bests as they’re so subjective, and clearly they are at Triple J too. I began to select a shortlist of songs I considered to be among the greatest, but eventually decided not to waste my time. The reason? I wanted to select a song from Laura Nyro, a very, very influential songwriter of the 1960s who wrote brilliant songs, performed them in her idiosyncratic manner, but never knew major commercial success herself. I thought I should pay homage to her by selecting at least one of her songs – to my horror she was absent from the list. Not only that, I wanted to select at least one Rolling Stones track, but their Stones list was not comprehensive either. I simply couldn’t take the poll seriously then, and just let it go.

There was some uproar about the fact that so few women made this list – does this mean women have not contributed to great song-writing? I won’t even dignify that with a response. I also question the choice of the (arguably) greatest song of all time by Nirvana, “Smells Like Teen Spirit”. I do like this song, but Mr Cobain really didn’t stick around long enough to prove himself. Interestingly, the last “greatest song” by Joy Division was also written by a man who hanged himself – I wonder if the next poll will have a Michael Jackson song as the number one? This morbid fascination for creative people no longer with us is perplexing, to say the least. Are the songs only voted as number ones because the artist is dead? What of the merits of the art itself? Can we then safely predict future number ones from Michael Hutchence, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, John Lennon and Bon Scott? Time will tell, I guess. I seriously hope we have a little more originality in our thinking than that.
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Taekwondo - Black Belts too Easy?

May 18th 2009 04:23
Are black belts in martial arts too easy to achieve these days? I practise taekwondo, and became a black belt after 2 and a half years of training. I did have to work hard at this – I was among the oldest in the training group, so I always felt behind the eight-ball in terms of flexibility, and had to work hard on the fitness side too. That never bothered me greatly as it was more rewarding for me to be disciplined. I worked hard and am very proud to have earned my belt, and I definitely respect the philosophy of the art. Is 2.5 years really a long enough period to have earned the right to a black belt though? I see teenagers and young adults who do not really show enough respect to their 5th Dan instructor during classes, just to give an example. Where’s the respect for the philosophy here?

I have long been a music student, and it seems to me that piano exams were way more rigourous than my taekwondo gradings could ever be. Why? Firstly because it’s one-on-one, so if there is a gap in knowledge, it cannot be missed. The en masse nature of the gradings, where several hundred children and adults are herded cattle-class into a large hall – in catering for the entire audience, the adults are patronised in a way that isn’t conducive to performing at one’s best. It just doesn’t really do the artform justice. It only serves to line the pockets of the brains behind it all, and they really do have it all figured out – books, training DVDs – a veritable marketing machine, at the end of which, every man and his dog come out with a black belt. Yes, determination, focus, discipline, confidence….. Stop right there though – doesn’t the speed with which the black belt is achieved cheapen its very value and that of the martial art itself? I suppose I’m really asking about fundamental values here – those running the show supposedly love taekwondo – they live and breathe it, and yet they can marry this with a money-making enterprise that I would have thought runs counter to its core philosophies


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