Feminazi, Kirsty Mac’s show for the Adelaide Fringe, is a guided tour down memory lane where Kirsty attempts to turn everyday examples of misogyny on its head with a gruff attitude, wry tongue and typical east coast wit. Feminazi is not “a history of misogyny” but captures small, intricate moments in interesting ways. There is a a sort of repossession happening here. Kirsty takes situations that may have been embarrassing for her and situates them as gross or silly on the man’s part. This is a great way of taking the power back, pushing the responsibility back onto the other side, and this makes for great material. The title for the show itself is immediately striking, though it’s uncertain whether this is for good or bad.

Kirsty Mac does not often have tact for when discussing certain topics and areas of discussion. While Kirsty touches on arresting topics in her show, in retrospect, it doesn’t seem like it is as confronting as it could be. There is almost an undertone of anger here, something that would be all too present in a show by a male comedian, so perhaps it is beneficial that she is playing a side too often not seen. Kirsty’s shtick is very much on being a woman in a very masculine world, and she wants to play the field comprehensively.

In this respect, it would be an overstretch to say Kirsty’s delivery is nuanced. It batters you over the head and assumes you to be on board with what she is saying, but leaves plenty of room for imagination if you “don’t get it.” Perhaps this is one of her many strengths as a performer – a feminist message conveyed through comedy is not easy to explicitly perform, but there are certain types of people who would walk away as converts. Is this not a success?

Some of the content makes the audience question whether the material was appropriate – which is often the case with comedy. Situated somewhere between liberal feminism and surprisingly clever dad humour, she touches on all kinds of things like expectations in relationships, periods, the inconveniences of gendered product placement, and a slew of similar topics. It’s easy to have very solid expectations with a show like this – and only 50% of that was realised (even though that is certainly not a bad thing). It should be mentioned though, that when Kirsty hits the right spot, it earns uproarious, genuine, deep-bellied laughter from the audience.

Feminazi is an enjoyable show with an uncanny way of picking apart truths that may otherwise go unnoticed. A friendly, knowing vibe was established by the end of her set despite it’s directness, which is to be commended. This is an indication of someone who is a very professional performer, but one who ironically may not get her credit due to her standing as a “feminist.” It’s sad, but she certainly deserves more and she very much knows her way around a comedy performance.

The location too, was new and unexpected. The venue, Vinyl is a little bar frozen in time, a perfect slice of 70s cheese. The mood was achieved well before the show had started. Vinyl is a fitting spot for music delivered as intimately as this.

The purpose of a musician is to act as both an entertainer and storyteller. Maggie, despite her youth and apparent precociousness, has tapped into this potential leaving plenty of room to spare. Instead of pretending to be something she’s not, Maggie shares anecdotes from her past and hopes for the present, all the while managing to come off as honest and unpretentious. She is young but is not trying to hide it. Her whole creative outlet is an exercise in life affirmation.

She still has room to grow, but for now, she is undoubtedly one of Adelaide’s greatest musical acts. During her set she riffed off a collection of songs from her album as well as a gorgeous cover of ‘Sea of Love.’ Maggie is able to expertly pluck a guitar, experiment with a variety of lush tones, and perform with the grace and humility of someone who has done it since they are 6 years old. Surprisingly, this was her first headline show.

Louis, too, is a young solo musician, and it should be reiterated if only to put in context the kinds of things he is singing about. His tales of wanting, heartbreak and intimate involvement are impressive, but might seem a little disingenuous if you consider his youth. His voice is nonetheless wonderfully trained and sustained, his high notes reminiscent of an uncertain Jeff Buckley.

However, it was when the two got together that the show really began. The chemistry between two people who had only “met a few months ago” was pretty remarkable – but amazing things can happen in a short amount of time. The combination of the two create real magic. One of the songs played, as we were told, was started by Maggie and finished off by Louis. If that song was an example of their combined forces, they’re on to something. Both of them are discerning and able to work with each other’s strengths. The show was a humble but satisfying evening in a time where Adelaide is concerned instead with theatrics, bombast and in your face performances.

All in all, this was a well-executed showcase of two of Adelaide’s most promising talents.

In an hour, Travis performs a series of self-aware truisms about fame, the city of Adelaide, and the competitive world of cyber punk. It’s hard to gauge sometimes whether this is a comedic performance or whether Travis well and truly believes he is the voice of his generation. There’s a bite to his voice and he clearly lives what he speaks – it’s just uncertain whether what he speaks about is as aspirational as he thinks it is.

Travis’s delivery is everything, and he exists as a walking, talking critique of the ridiculousness bourgeois culture. Travis celebrates the hilariously mundane: flying with Virgin Australia instead of Jetstar, shopping at north park centre (but treating it like Beverly Hills), and the pleasures of sauntering down Rundle Mall. From Travis’s perspective, the everyday is as exciting as the idea of fame, as long as we possess the insight and the ego. The power of celebrity is accessible within us – glamour has nothing to do with wealth.

Travis Cook understands self-branding. His talk gives some insight about how we can turn ourselves into our very own products, ready to be consumed and observed by the public. He talks about how much he loves the Internet, and how he loves the quirky, less threatening side of capitalism. In his talk, he emphasises especially how much this new wave self-parody is actually his biggest strength. His argument is that there is no choice but to live in this nonsensical world, so you might as well attack it from the inside out. His achievements include being followed by Molly Soda on Tumblr and working with a slew of likeminded Internet musical artists like Oscar Key Sung and HTMLflowers.

Watching Travis talk begs the question: “Where do the jokes end and where does reality begin?” It’s just too hard to say. The talk was nonetheless very funny, and surprisingly informative. At over an hour long however, it begins to drag, but this can only be expected for someone who has never actually given a legitimate self-help talk before.

With the Light, Hook exists within a very different plane from where he has traditionally played, both musically and professionally. Nonetheless The Light confidently played through a series of Joy Division songs before exploring Low Life, the more synthesized record, and Brotherhood the more diverse album, in their entirety. In these three sets Hook proves he can be his own support band, touring band, and main act. It is this kind of involved ego that has attracted much criticism from fans, peers and ex band mates alike.

Peter Hook and the Light Play New Order not only straddles a weird line between high art (festival event) and “low” art (playing at a venue like The Gov to it’s usual patrons) but also swerves between electronic music and rock quite liberally. Low Life and Brotherhood both serve as markers in New Order’s career where the band began diverging from post-punk/rock and into dance.

Ultimately, if Peter Hook is trying to present an oral history, he is doing fabulously. However, most of New Order‘s discography was music that was made to be danced to under back lights, in dark clubs or at least in some dimly lit theatre. By playing New Order‘s songs in this pub arena, he shows a distinct unawareness of who now listens to his music. There is a stark distance from the original purpose of the music to the current.

Hook managed to create a vibe that was professional and entertaining to almost everyone there. He did not crack a smile, barely engaged with the crowd, and seemed to exert very little effort, but this all seemed to work for him, not against him. He confidently reigned supreme over a formidable crowd of New Order fans and caused them to shimmy in the way only 40 year old Australians do.

Peter Hook is an amazing musician and his band certainly does not differ from this standard. I went to his show feeling apprehensive and just a little bit excited, and after I left both of those emotions remained in a greater capacity. The show was as satisfying as it could have been. It was a group of experienced musicians playing incredible songs.

Maybe that was the only intention.