The sign of a good cabaret is the ability to transform the  strange and obscene into something hilarious and unexpectedly sexual. It elevates crassness into  jovial entertainment, translating shock into raucous fun while giving us all an arena for our dusty darker sides. At EastEnd Caberet: Sexual Tension, we squirmed in our seats at the overt prurience, we stifled laughs, but when a tall and leggy, feathered jumpsuit adorned woman clambered across the audience to lick an audience member’s bald head, we were given tacit permission to roar with unhindered laughter and let loose our desire for filthy fun.

The duo from the EastEnd was comprised of a tall and salacious Bernadette, looking like a giant muppet in her glittered and feathered jumpsuit, and Victor/Victoria, dressed as half a dapper gentleman and half a showgirl. It was a strange dynamic, but these two women nailed it. They inhabited their characters with such presence, skill and some kind of fierce deviance. Bernadette dominated the stage with her intoxicating demeanour and audience interaction. However, Victor/Victoria was my highlight, owning the sidekick role with subtlety and precision; she managed to make a creepy accordion playing third wheel seem so attractive. Each woman was brilliant alone, but their chemistry together blew the roof off the tent. They possessed a strange codependancy, a sweet more than platonic friendship; they were sinister and sexual, predacious and promiscuous.

It is not enough to be sassy and hilarious, you had better back it up with trenchant wit and great singing. These women delivered. Their lyrics were so intelligently crafted and their musicality was flawless.

EastEnd Cabaret: Sexual Tension runs until Tuesday February 17. Tickets available here.

Review by Fiona Hugo

Punters, this is your musical zenith. Local musicians Davey Craddock and Stacy Gougoulis act as hosts and curators of an evening with the unhindered pursuit and appreciation of music. For anyone who strains to hear lyrics while being disturbed by sloshing pints and loud nearby conversations; this is music as it is meant to be presented and received. Held in the beautiful St George’s College Dining Hall, a haven of mahogany, stained glass and lop sided lampshades, we knew we were in a sacred space. Sitting in pew like rows, I felt we were in a church where sound was the deity, worshipping at the altar of soulful music.

On the lineup tonight was a solo Timothy Nelson, stripped of his band, but with clear and orotund vocals and captivating expression. Following was Jordi Davieson and Josh Biondillo - half of San Cisco, playful and intimate, with Jordi’s sweet rich voice in fine balance with the grand piano. To my delight, Davey Craddock joined them to sing a beautiful Dave Rawlings country ballad. When they put their guitars down and belted out the final lines of flawless three part harmony, I was a happy woman. After an interval featuring wine and special snack boxes, we heard from the mighty and rich Felicity Groom with dissonant harmonies, cathartic chanting and the surprise addition of a banjo. Closing the evening was The Wilds – an amalgamation of local favourites with their truncated and poignant songs. It was a dreamy, strange and familiar all at once.

A few of these artists have recently delved into the electronic and synth style with a slightly heavier and more developed sound. To take something deliberately developed, and strip it back to it’s visceral elements is mighty special. We were enthralled as this beautiful music lay pure and exposed before us. There is an exchange that takes place, a mutual sharing. The audience provides full attention, and the artist give freely, yielding carnal delight for all. It is all facilitated by this premise: a space for the sanctity of music.

My highlight: in the middle of Timothy Nelson’s set, a hidden choir quietly erupted from within the audience, perfectly placed and balanced to envelop the audience in harmonies. I felt consumed by the swelling sound.

Simon Taylor is a smart man. His humour never skirted the boundaries of crassness and never resorted to rudeness or insults. He was simply, intelligently funny. How refreshing.

As we walked in, we were greeted by an empty stage with a sign instructing us to email any questions to Simon. The show began with the comedian hidden, serenading the audience from backstage, weaving answers to our emailed questions into his song, with an offhanded charm. It was effective, impressive and light humour. There is an intensity about the stand up format: one solitary person on an empty stage, bargaining with the audience over the comedic price of their wit. I enjoyed this introduction; it eased us all into the process. While it lacked relevance, and did not flow well into the rest of his show, it yielded laughs, and with stand up comedy, surely anything goes.

With a very comfortable stage presence, Simon Taylor was candid and engaging. His humour was honest and self reflective, without being self depreciating. He discussed linguistics, travel and romance, all with an endearing and accessible charm. I was particularly impressed with his breakdown of social culture in different countries based upon the number of syllables in which a greeting could be expressed.

It was an impressive, informative and entertaining show. It made me laugh, reflect, and wish this guy was my friend.

Simon Taylor. Funny runs until Tuesday 3rd of February. You can find tickets here

The Swing Revue this year took a turn down the soulful and vibrant path of Gospel with spontaneous vocality, call and answer between band members, and a bit of hide and seek in the horn section. I applaud the effort that was put into keeping the show fresh and interesting; we were treated with a diverse range of feature musicians and a variety of different combinations. A favourite of mine is always the three part harmonies of the sweet and sassy Cotton Tail Trio. This year there was a new collaboration called ‘The Concept of West’, a gospel inspired four part harmony. Oh how those flawless harmonies make my toes curl. I am on my knees, crying out to the God of swing music for more harmonies, please.

I was struck by how cohesive this group was. They shared similar musical quirks, swelling together and moving together. I could feel the candid joy of genre that possessed each band member. What a special thing, to share in their treasured passion. This magnetism is held together by frontwoman Jessie Gordon, who is an absolute force; I can’t help but feel that she is the life and creative energy of this group. She holds herself with all the honeyed poise and sophistication of a true Chanteuse. Her voice is mellifluous, her presence could stop a bus and her showmanship appears effortless, but I am sure is the result of the utmost dedication.

It is the energy of this group, and their genuine passion for the music they present that fills the old genre, and cracks it open a little. It retains the essential elements, but lets it breathe, stretch and reform ino something familiar but excitingly fresh. Go and see these lovely local artists. What a special thing to cultivate something old and treasured, maintaining that integrity, while giving it new life.

Recommended for: those who love sweet and soulful music, and those who lust for music with swing and spice.

The Swing Revue runs until Friday 30th January. Tickets are here.
The Darling Buds of May are also presenting Fever: The Music of Peggy Lee from February 14th and you can find tickets here.

It’s all in the name: a bit zesty and salacious, a bit of a gender bender, and all wrapped up in the glittery gown of excess.

This 60 minute show was essentially a marathon pop medley; a farrago of the songs that defined this generation. Frisky and Mannish donned wigs, roller skates and glittery socks to string together trenchant insult after pop culture reference, all laced with the bite of didactic satire. There is a fine line between obscenity and entertainment, and I think it all comes down to the big ‘T’ – Talent. In other words: it’s all fun and games until someone sings off key. However, this libidinous duo strutted across that line in heels and sneakers with glittery laces.  Frisky and Mannish were vibrant performers, flawless musicians and impeccable script writers.

They had the audience in a state of giggling whiplash, frothing at the mouth from a surfeit of pop; moment of honesty: I am impervious to pop culture. I was a dizzy babe in the scary disco woods with a wrecking ball (literally and proverbially) swinging above my head. I feel a lot of the show’s intelligence was lost on me. However, I still had an absolute ruckus of a good time. I looked around and felt that every audience member had FUN; a belly laugh at someone else’s expense, and a chuckle at themselves. It was a silly show that hid it’s intelligence. I can’t imagine what kind of meticulously calculated effort went into the formation of that musical score and script – and I don’t want to. That was the appeal of the show – a 60 minute unhindered laugh, not realising how truly sagacious a show it was. It seemed like a dizzy carefree mess, but it was tightly woven together with narrative and didactic purpose.

It is an intelligent piece of art that holds a mirror up to a culture, reveals itself to be laughable, but throws its hands in the air and says ‘we love our life anyway’. The criticism was rampant but fair, like the hearty, honest drunk aunt who tells you she can see your knickers.

Recommended for: anyone who has ever criticised Miley Cyrus while secretly singing along to ‘Wrecking Ball’ when it comes on the radio.

Frisky and Mannish: Just Too Much runs until Sunday 1st February. Tickets are here.

‘Brazen’ is one of my favourite words. It is evocative of dimly lit speakeasies, unpolished saxophones, nimble fingered trumpet players and that man in the corner booth in a top hat with golden rings. Turn the speakeasy into a circus tent, and add women in glittery dresses with big grins and you have my evening at Fringe.

Presenting the music of Etta James tonight was Stratosfunk, a 7 piece jazz band, and three women with mighty voices. Frontwoman Yara Neto seduced us all with her sonorous soul vocals. She moved seamlessly from captivating high energy numbers to soft and slow moments of heartache. With her rich, swelling voice and subtly commanding presence, she never faltered; a woman who maintains unwavering strength even in vulnerability is my kind of woman. Yara was supported by Jesse Gordon and Amy Rosato on back up vocals; big hair, and modest amounts of sass. I have such a penchant for choreographed dance moves that are flawless, but somehow seem spontaneous and natural – when I grow up, I wanna be a backup singer; I’ll be clicking and shimmying in my bathroom tonight.

Each number was interspersed with candid commentary, little spoonfuls (rather, shotglasses) of history, snippets of Etta James’ biography and peeks into how the singers connected with the song. I value this kind of audience interaction – I want to know what a covered song means to the singer – it is that candour that makes tribute nights bearable for me. However, I did wonder if others felt these moments of intimacy detracted from the ‘polish’ of the show.

With moments of heavy pulsing electric guitar, a tambourine cacophony, and rolling baritone sax, my feet could not keep still. The evening ended with a stand up, hand clapping gospel number. A choir was ushered in and we stood in tacit fervor for the God of soul music. Yara even took her shoes off, Etta style.

Recommended for: swooners and crooners, toe tappers, and those who in their heart have big hair, and a glittery dress hidden in their wardrobe.

I told my mama to go and see it tomorrow.

Tell Mama: The Music of Etta James runs until Sunday 25th January