Meow Meow’s The Red Shoes at Malthouse; Melbourne Symphony Orchestra Ryman Healthcare Spring Gala; Pixies at Festival Hall; Joyce DiDonato at Hamer Hall; Brigid at Dancehouse

Meow Meow at one point challenges Andersen (Kanen Breen) about the tale’s punitive correction of a girl who just wants to dance. Maybe dancing is not the problem but the treatment? Maybe we need more art in our lives?

Uncertainties are open to interpretation. It could be Red Shoes Could it also be a self-reflexive commentary on diva narcissism seeking external validation or the peripatetic career paths of artists?

in the movie wizard Self, After a series of (mis)adventures, Dorothy’s ruby ​​shoes took her home; In this story, they have the opposite effect: they are a talisman of the dangers of creative ambition, the endless desire to prove oneself; even if that desire takes you far from home (like Meow Meow’s career).

For those hoping or expecting linearity and harmony, you’ll be overwhelmed by this ragtag assortment of song, dance and spectacle, but if you’re a fan of cabaret with a touch of the absurd, the charisma and rich honeyed tones of Meow Meow, Breen’s operatic tenor and trio of musicians provide a theatrical balance.
Reviewed by Thuy On

MUSIC
Ryman Healthcare Spring Gala: Joyce DiDonato ★★★★★
Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, Hamer Hall, 21 November

Making her first major Australasian tour, American mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato confirmed her reputation as one of this generation’s most compelling classical singers with a hauntingly sophisticated rendering of Berlioz’s song cycle. Nuits d’été (Summer Nights) Conducted by the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra Jaime Martin.

DiDonato clearly enjoyed bringing out the exquisite sensuality and profound emotion that comes from this transcendent expression of French romanticism. Charting a journey from innocence through loss to new life, the six songs were the perfect vehicle for her vocal versatility.

DiDonato’s liquid gold voice, so vivid to musical and textual nuances, brought simple pleasure. Villanelleelegantly contrasts with ruminative enthusiasm Ghost of the Rose The climax, “I come from heaven,” was extremely seductive. Thinking of loneliness and death, in lagoons, Absence And in the cemetery He revealed the attractive and impressive qualities of his underclass, before a radiant enthusiasm sailed upon him. Unknown Island.

DiDonato, a generous artist, offered two iterations: a fiery one. Habanera From Bizet Carmen and then creating a connection between his hometown in Kansas and the Land of Oz, Somewhere Over the Rainbow.

Starting with Rossini’s William Tell The overture may seem trite, but David Berlin’s brilliantly delivered first impassioned cello solo balances the all-too-familiar gallop.

After the break came two-thirds of Respighi’s Rome trilogy: Roman Fountains And Roman Pines. Although the latter undeniably resulted in a triumph, such unimaginative programming robbed a wide audience of the opportunity to introduce the least heard and arguably the best of the three suites. Roman Festivals.

However, the orchestral instruments were consistently interesting and Berlioz in particular was accompanied sensitively. But the night belonged to DiDonato, who we hope will dazzle Melbourne again soon.
Reviewed by Tony Way

MUSIC
Fairies ★★★★
Melbourne Festival Hall, 19 November

Female bassists are to the Pixies what drummers are to Spinal Tap: there were plenty of them. Kim Deal (1987-2012), Kim Shattuck (briefly in 2013), Paz Lenchantin (2014-2023) have all come and gone.

Now it’s Emma Richardson’s turn to provide the pounding basslines and sweet harmonies that are crucial to the Boston-born band’s loud-quiet-loud dynamic. Frontman Black Francis stands tall, literally and figuratively, above guitarist Joey Santiago and drummer Dave Lovering as the quartet embrace and take a well-deserved bow at the end of a 32-song, two-hour set Wednesday night.

This is a back to back album show where the band plays Bossanova (1990) and Trompe le Monde (1991) in bits and pieces, adding a handful of favorites at the end for good measure. On this tour, they’re changing up their set lists throughout the two-night events; The second set includes the best collections from their catalogue, as well as some songs from their new album. The Night the Zombies Came.

The Pixies are, and always have been, a no-nonsense noise machine. As they take to the stage, unadorned except for a winged P and four orbs that transform from planets to eyes over the course of the show (he nods to the corresponding album’s cover art), Francis takes a sip from a mug and says “hello time travelers,” then offers a little background on the album’s origins. Cecilia Annopening track on Bossanova (A cover of a Surftones song recorded in 1964 but not released until 1988, credited to French composer Gabriel Faure. Sicily …apparently).

This is the fourth time I’ve seen the Pixies live (the first was at their peak in 1989), and before they’ve even played a note Francis has said more than the other three shows combined.

He’s in a good mood, and it’s no wonder. The band is tight enough to move between songs at a rate of knots. “Thank you. The songs are a little short, I know,” he says at one point. And he’s right. Some barely make it past 90 seconds.

Their sound is different than it was in 1987, when their first mini album was released. Come on Haji exploded into the world. It’s moodier, scarred by the screams that break up many of the tracks, but the counterpoint upper register remains intact. It works.

Santiago’s guitar work is good as always; burning, wavy, sparkling and velouria, Allison, Is he weird? And Dig for Firethe band sounds as good as ever.

The energy goes up a notch when they come in. trumpet Set with a slight pause to note the transition. This is a more punk set of fast and furious songs, and the crowd’s energy increases as the set progresses.

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Having recorded just four studio albums during the first wave of mutilations before disbanding in 1993 (and a further five since reforming in 2004), the influence of the Pixies has been well recognized; Nirvana and Weezer were also among those who paid tribute. But tonight, along with this set list, a backwards origin also emerged: a cover of Jesus and Mary Chain. directthe aforementioned Surftones track (and a general mix of surf guitar sounds throughout) and the final section of non-album tracks by Neil Young all winter long.

It was a welcome reminder that the Pixies were indeed born of this world, even though they sometimes felt like they came from nowhere, or perhaps even outer space. They are strange, shocking and sometimes unfathomable, but as such they are as vital as ever.
Reviewed by Karl Quinn

DANCE
brigid ★★★
Dance House, until 22 November

The room fills with mist as the dancers lie face down, hiding their faces. It’s an opening scene that evokes ancient images of Celtic romance: an orange twilight glow, bubbling vapors, and ancient figures half-buried in the ground.

brigidCreated by Alice Heyward and Oisín Monaghan, it evokes the pagan Irish goddess of the same name, one of the folk deities of the mythical age before recorded history, the imaginary time of the Tuatha Dé Danann.

We actually know very little about this daughter of the Dagda. Her story was partially obscured by the later famous abbess and miracle worker, St Brigid of Kildare, the so-called Gaelic Mary who turned dirty bath water into beer.

When Heyward and Monaghan look back at the older Brigid, they seem to take her uncertainty as a clue. It’s a work full of ambiguities and strange gaps amidst the old-school jigging that fills the space.

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The three artists – Heyward, Monaghan and Oonagh Slater – are slowly pulling themselves together. You feel the weight of the task of reactivating something old and earth-loving. They fall and fall again, landing with real weight.

The dance is coming slowly. At first they act together: perhaps a tentative suggestion of the triple aspect of the goddess. They then separate, moving with apparent freedom in the long, windy space between the lights positioned at either end of the studio.

Monaghan’s boots hit the boards like antique irons. Or maybe hammers. Is this the vision of Brigid in her role as the patroness of blacksmiths? Loud percussive steps closely follow the work of sound designer Gregor Kompar, who also performs live.

Heyward is lighter, almost airy, its rhythms more intimate, reminding us that Brigid brought fire and poetry. His energy turns semi-fiery, his movements shaky and bright. Slater is more talkative, lively, but more organized.

There are several clearly marked sections, including a moment where the dancers retreat to corners and wail. This is a reference to the story of her lament for her son, but it seems almost comical, suggesting a mingling of pain and joy.

Ritual is often the translation of the mysterious into the legible; This work reverses the process, attempting to evoke a lost divinity from choreography and remembered gestures. This is a venture that, if nothing else, has its unique and beautiful moments.
Reviewed by Andrew Fuhrmann

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