The lights dimmed, a finely coiffed perm emerged, a dazzling smile twinkled with boyish glee and a moustache that would put Tom Selleck to shame bristled with anticipation. Barry Morgan, the finest purveyor of musical organs, was a sight to behold. With a quick flourish of his meticulously manicured hands we were transported to his magical hybrid world of daggy Australiana and global pop culture. Think Kath and Kim meets Australia’s Got Talent (just set in an era before Australia actually had any), a time where jellied pineapple was all the rage and Dynasty dominated the television screen.

True to Fringe form, the show follows a loose plot. As entertaining as it is watching a grown man perform Hit Me Baby One More Time on his organ (Yes, the puns and euphemisms are abundant in this one) it simply doesn’t sustain a full show.

The plot was made all the more loose by the fact that Barry was a little challenged in sticking to the script. Some technical trouble, made stage manager and producer slightly reluctant co-stars.

Technical troubles aside, the participatory nature of the show was a highlight. It’s a testament to the innovative nature of Fringe that nearly all the performers seek to engage with their audience. Admittedly though, my partner in crime was far more vocal than me when it came to this aspect.

Barry Morgan’s world of organ’s is a unique creation. Ignoring the preview-night glitches, it’s a labour of love that’s certainly worth a peek for the curious spectator— particularly if you’re a sucker for a man with a perm.