Nick Cave & Warren Ellis In Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome

This is one seriously cool photo. These guys are legends. They make amazing music. I love the music of The Bad Seeds and Grinderman and Dirty Three. And here were these two one day, in my banged up cafe.

Donald Trump... So Fucking Stupid

This Trump thing... it's so fascinating. So morbidly fascinating that an idiot orange pigman, self-confessed pussy grabber has the world's attention. That press conference... holy shit. He doesn't need the media to be his enemy or "the enemy of the American people" to paint him in bad light, he's doing it all himself. He's up there in front of a hastily-called press conference doing all the worst damage he could possibly do to himself. He is clearly a lunatic. He is clearly a sociopath. And stupid... so breath-takingly stupid. That bit about uranium... for real? The leader of the current leading world super power actually said that? Among so much other totally dumb shit... amazing.

And he is so stupid that he doesn't see the media as the powerful tool that it could be. Yeah right, all of the media is against you because they make up fake news... no, just look at your pathetic performance up there in your first presidential press conference where you could have talked calmly about policy and won the press over with charm and intelligence, but noooo. What a bombastic, idiotic performance that was. No one made it up. Nothing fake. You did it. You are real. You proved yet again that you are the very worst example of humanity.

And it makes me want to know what the supporters of this truly delusional and vile bit of phlegm think now that he truly is out there unleashed and representing them on the world stage. I know he appeals to an ignorant minority of the American population (didn't win the popular vote, orange pigman fool), but I hear stories about supposedly intelligent Americans who voted for him.

I'm fascinated. How do you feel now, intelligent Americans who voted for this actually mentally unstable grub? Are you happy that he represents YOU on the world stage. You good with that? I'm curious. I want to know.

Because it's one month in and from all the way over here it looks you have fucked up badly by electing this proven pathological liar and utter buffoon.

Okay... butterflies and pretty clouds... butterflies and pretty clouds...

'Tis Pity, Victorian Opera, Review

'Tis A Pity

Reviewed by Lee Bemrose

My love affair... no my infatuation... no that's not right either... my obsession... no I'm not obsessed... my stalker tendencies for... no that's just wrong (but not entirely)... my... thing for Meow Meow goes back many years now, as the whole world knows. And as much as I have always melted at the mere mention of her name and become positively turgid at the prospect of a new show, 'Tis Pity left me... let's just say it didn't leave me with the raging emotional hard-on her performances usually leave me with.

Part of the problem is that Meow Meow belongs on a pedestal. A pedestal with spotlights focused on her unique and divine presence. Of course she is usually accompanied on stage, but usually by a small band or a solo pianist or some hand-picked reluctant volunteers from the audience.

In 'Tis Pity, however, Miss Meow is part of a much larger cast and as such, her star power has been much diluted. And 'tis a pity.

Borrowing its name from... I thought it got its name from a recent Bowie song, but it's actually from a 17^th century play by John Ford. The full title is 'Tis A Pity She's A Whore, and this production by Victorian Opera is indeed an examination of prostitution in its various forms throughout the ages.

We start off in ancient Athens and Rome and move through the ages to modern times in a series of 10 vignettes, each exploring various aspects of prostitution and its standing in the respective times, all told in a kind of Vaudevillian operatic style.

The work is a collaboration between artistic director and composer Richard Mills, director Cameron Menzies, and performer (what an insufficient word, given her star quality) Meow Meow. MM is accompanied on stage by co-lead Kaneen Breen and three dancers Alexander Bryce, Thomas Johansson and Patrick Weir. The stage is also rammed with a symphony orchestra. All do a fine job.

Ironically, all of this talent on stage adds up to the reason this was a little less satisfying for me than the usual Meow Meow experience. There were teasing glimmers of classic Meow Meow craziness but it was buried in so much orchestra and opera (yes, I know from other shows that she holds her own in classic song of whichever style she chooses to play with). I do appreciate classical music, but as a soundtrack I found the music here distracting. I kept feeling like I was listening to a Disney cartoon, melodramatic tunes accompanying crazy visual antics. And I don't think I appreciate the operatic delivery of story, so while I found the vocals amazing, it's just not my preferred way of being told a story or given information. I don't actually like having to take my eyes away from the performance to read the English interpretation of the Italian lyrics being sung.

But that's just me. I haven't seen a lot of opera, so I'd love to hear what someone who knows about opera thinks of this performance.

At the heart of 'Tis A Pity is a serious examination of a very human condition. What they have tried to do is balance the seriousness of the topic with comedy. In past shows I've been amazed by Meow Meow's ability to draw from me tears of hilarity and tears of the other kind in such a short time. Again, here, for me, not so much. I'm not sure this balancing act of sincerity and humour worked so well.

I went in aware that this was going to be a little different to my favourite Meow Meow shows of the past, and yes, there is so much amazing talent present in this production, and yes I did start to really enjoy it but not until the Berlin Vignette, which was quite a way into the show.

I'm not quite sure why this show was “written at breakneck speed”, as Richard Mills tells us in the program notes, but perhaps it would have benefited with a bit more time. Really not bad, just possibly doesn't deliver its full potential.

At Melbourne Recital Centre until February 8

Sanctuary

Things hadn't been happy in the household for quite a while. There had been a lot of trouble, almost all of it entirely unnecessary. Declarations of love had been shouted down by declarations of hate. Separation seemed inevitable. Friends from all parts of the world were concerned. There was much discussion between many clueless third parties about what would or should happen.

Then there was a period of tranquility, of cautious peace. Maybe, he thought, they could work things out after all. Maybe it was worth trying to make it work, because the troubled now was riding on the crest of a wave of long-time love. There was hope.

He was an introvert working in a people job, dealing with people all day long. He enjoyed this, enjoyed interacting with people, but by Friday he needed the quiet sanctuary of his home. Dealing with people was a kaleidoscopic experience, often wonderful, often sad, always, ultimately, exhausting.

On this Friday, he stopped off to have a drink with her and her friends. They were already drunk and laughing and keen to kick on. He explained his exhaustion and his need to go to his sanctuary and they said they understood. He said he would pick up dinner ingredients and would cook dinner for her. She smiled and said she'd see him soon.

At home, he showered and dressed in his silk sarong. He didn't turn on the TV or music. The silence was sublime. He made a drink and started to prepare their dinner, looking forward to their quiet night in together.

Then his phone buzzed with a message: We are all coming back for dinner. Can you pop the nachos in?

He hoped she was joking but started to prepare a bigger meal just in case, and sure enough the door crashed drunkenly open and they all spilled in, all noise and drunk laughter.

He felt rude as he excused himself, told her he was going to bed. He really needed some solitude and didn't understand why she had done this. He went to bed, and she turned the music up so loud it almost drowned out their raucous talk and laughter.

Music and raucous talk and laughter are happy sounds, and as he fell asleep, he enjoyed these sounds, even though right now they made him feel sad as well.

Eventually the others left, their leaving waking him. She cleaned up and eventually made her way into her room, no longer so happy and talkative.

Silence and darkness; sanctuary at last.

He went out into the darkness of their home to look for something to eat, because it was late and he was hungry. He looked for the leftovers of the meal he had started to prepare for them and found that in a final fuck you, she had scraped the leftovers into the garbage bin.