Another gig another new venue. My first time in the HMV Picture House. Sadly, also another big ugly boxy sound. Is this an east-coast thing, like putting that brown slime on your chips? Unfortuante for the audience, but also for The Indelicates who are currently playing their hearts out up there. And it looks like great fun. The bits making it through are interesting. But, the sound is killing whatever is going on. So, they get added to the list of see-next time bands. Which I suppose is a positive thing that at least enough comes through for me to be thinking Carter USM Vs The Wannadies and to be cheesed of at not getting the full thing. Bah.
As we arrive at the venue, there are signs warning us of “partial nudity” as part of Zen Zen Zo‘s perfomance. So, how many people saw that and demanded their money back? In the spirit of burlesque, they turn out to be a physical theatre company who send on some painted blokes in loinclothes to prance about with blankets. They’re then joined with the shocking semi-naked ladies and they do another distinctly unsensual routine. I’m sure their show is amazing. Out of context it’s just slightly amusing. They don’t outstay their welcome.
The Dresden Dolls were always one of those bands I’ve meant to go see on the reputation of an stounding live show, but never go round to. What I heard of their recorded ouvre made decide to wait for when I did see them live. My interest in frontwoman Amanda Palmer was piqued a couple of months back when the internet was rife with her email about how she’d utilised social media to not only create unique and interesting happenings, but also to make more money than her last major label album had earned her – and in a much shoerter time. The blog and Twitter accounts were followed and by the time this gig came round I was ready to fight for the review ticket. But, I come to this as a novice to her music.
From the back of the room a N’orleans style marching band (some festival buskers co-opted through the week) start up and begin making their way through the crowd. Ms Palmer descend the staircase in the Picture House like the ginger daughter of Lili Von Shtupp and takes up the procession lead onto the stage. TBH, the entrance is worth having come here already. She then does a couple of songs at the piano backed by the brass-guys. I don’t know what the songs are, but they knock last year’s Tom Waits’ gig into a cocked-hat.
Then we are left alone with her. Sat at the piano (and swigging red wine) we are treated to a series of glorious 21st century cabaret songs. There’s one about Googling your new beau. It’s hilarious and deeply touching. As her seemless co-opting of Momus‘ I Love You But I Don’t Need You is wonderful (which is huge praise coming from me). We get a tune with the uke (what burlesque show hasn’t?) and it’s smashing. But, it’s behind the piano that she seems at home. And, I begin to noticejust how great she is on the ivories. Like a dramatic Chico Marx. She can really uses all them keys.
There’s a reading from the book she wrote with current squeeze Neil Gaiman. And, I can’t make out a word of it. Thank you big cavernous venue. He then reads another shorter piece which is fantastic. He then reads a shorter piece, which is awesome. Why aren’t all the mics so good.
Back to the music. By this point I’m moving from one side of the venue (where I can see) to the other (where I can hear). She’s joined by her sister on vocals, a drummer’s coaxed out. Then the brass band retake the stage. Followed by The Indelicates for a full pick-up band extraveganza. It is quite staggering.
And, then it’s all over. A fantastic night of entertainment. Amanda Palmer is a goddam STAR!