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// 8th February
The other day I went and saw Antony & The Johnsons at the Opera House. It was the first time I have ever been inside the Opera House as far as I remember, and it was plenty fun. The orchestra was interesting to see, even though I had little idea what was really going on. It’s definitely worth seeing the Opera House form the inside.
If you like the idea of seeing an overweight and overly camp man wail away like some poor man’s Jeff Buckley – except that Jeff Buckley would then turn around and shake the foundations of a pub, before backing that up by mesmerising a stadium the following night – over lyrics about his mum and the ocean while occasionally playing something fairly vague on the piano, taking breaks to opine (did I mention this guy is excessively camp?) about very ill-informed political and evolutionary (what the?) ideals that have absolutely nothing to do with his music no matter how hard he tries to draw a link, then you’d probably love Antony & The Johnsons. You’d probably be one of the twenty people in the venue who cheered his drivel and laughed at his apparent jokes while everyone else smacked their foreheads. It wasn’t my cup of tea though.
Girl Talk on the other hand, was a sensational gig. Mr. Talk, or Greg, or whoever he is, jogged onto stage at The Enmore Theatre like some gangsta, up to his desk that had two laptops on it, and two feedback speakers. One laptop was just a backup. He quickly went from gangsta to pasty white man, but proceeded to crank out a little party for himself, much like I do when I sit in front of my computer with nothing on my screen except iTunes. Except that every now and then he gets to look up and notice however-many-hundred other people also at his party. On these occasions where he looks up and notices the party going on he would stand on his desk and dance around, crowd surf, throw confetti, et cetera. Pretty much the best job in the world. Everyone was fair drenched in sweat early on, and not many shirts stayed on. My night was capped off by him playing the first verse of Juicy in the closing moments of the gig.
And pretty close to the top of the must-see-before-I-die list, The Mountain Goats are playing in this harbour city in April. Who wants to come with?
2 Comments
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I’ll be in sydney that week and there’s no way I’m missing this. I’ll send you a txt closer to the date…
micah, February 8th
Did he just have boxer shorts on like I’ve heard about?
Mellow, February 10th