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Intense Galas goes for the jugular
By SCOTT D. LEWIS
Oregonian, OR
Sept 14 2004
Diamanda Galas' two weekend shows as part of PICA's Time-Based Art
Festival were a study in contrasts. The contrast between intense,
and really intense, that is.
Friday night's show nearly filled the Newmark Theatre and was
decidedly the more intense of her riveting performances, with Galas
plowing through her recently released "DEFIXIONES: Will & Testament"
double album. The piece, dedicated "to the forgotten and erased of the
Armenian, Assyrian, and Greek genocides that occurred in Asia Minor,
Pontos and Thrace between 1914 and 1923," was performed with Galas
clawing at a black grand piano, transfixed at two side pulpits or
clenching her microphones and prowling on a runway toward the audience.
The stage was blackened, three candelabras glowed at the back, and
Galas, cloaked in layered black gauze, appeared both bewitching and
as though caught in a spell.
That spell, which proved itself to be more a case of passionate
possession, quickly enveloped the theater's three levels and left
nearly all in a sustained, cerebral trance.
Armed with a 31/2-octave vocal range, "six languages and gibberish" and
methodically researched and dissected subject matter, Galas shrieked,
screeched, growled, hissed and howled the cases of souls slaughtered
and forgotten.
And even if her texts are foreign, her pieces are difficult, and
her singular, dervish-banshee singing can be unsettling. When Galas
performs, her intent is definite, and her delivery is inescapable
and unforgettable.
Sunday's show was sold out -- and stunning.
Seated at the piano for the evening, Galas turned toward her dark
bluesy side and paced through a gripping set of standards, murder
ballads and original songs.
In Galas' hands and throat, the somewhat chipper "My World Is Empty
Without You," became turbulent and tortured, sounding as if the world
in question was really the underworld.
With her husky, seasoned voice, unique arrangements and absolute
focus, Galas sounded like the vampiric lovechild of Tom Waits and
Nina Simone, throwing in a few rounds of seizure-inducing screeching
for good measure.
Her take on Hank Williams' "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" could leave
Elvis stirred and shaken, and her version of Shel Silverstein's
"25 Minutes to Go" peeled back the campfire favorite to reveal the
silly tune for what it really is -- the panic of a person on the way
to be executed.
After multiple standing ovations and encores, Galas ended her stellar
show with an otherworldly version of "Gloomy Sunday" and made her
way to the lobby for a casual meet-and-greet with fans both old and
certainly new.
By SCOTT D. LEWIS
Oregonian, OR
Sept 14 2004
Diamanda Galas' two weekend shows as part of PICA's Time-Based Art
Festival were a study in contrasts. The contrast between intense,
and really intense, that is.
Friday night's show nearly filled the Newmark Theatre and was
decidedly the more intense of her riveting performances, with Galas
plowing through her recently released "DEFIXIONES: Will & Testament"
double album. The piece, dedicated "to the forgotten and erased of the
Armenian, Assyrian, and Greek genocides that occurred in Asia Minor,
Pontos and Thrace between 1914 and 1923," was performed with Galas
clawing at a black grand piano, transfixed at two side pulpits or
clenching her microphones and prowling on a runway toward the audience.
The stage was blackened, three candelabras glowed at the back, and
Galas, cloaked in layered black gauze, appeared both bewitching and
as though caught in a spell.
That spell, which proved itself to be more a case of passionate
possession, quickly enveloped the theater's three levels and left
nearly all in a sustained, cerebral trance.
Armed with a 31/2-octave vocal range, "six languages and gibberish" and
methodically researched and dissected subject matter, Galas shrieked,
screeched, growled, hissed and howled the cases of souls slaughtered
and forgotten.
And even if her texts are foreign, her pieces are difficult, and
her singular, dervish-banshee singing can be unsettling. When Galas
performs, her intent is definite, and her delivery is inescapable
and unforgettable.
Sunday's show was sold out -- and stunning.
Seated at the piano for the evening, Galas turned toward her dark
bluesy side and paced through a gripping set of standards, murder
ballads and original songs.
In Galas' hands and throat, the somewhat chipper "My World Is Empty
Without You," became turbulent and tortured, sounding as if the world
in question was really the underworld.
With her husky, seasoned voice, unique arrangements and absolute
focus, Galas sounded like the vampiric lovechild of Tom Waits and
Nina Simone, throwing in a few rounds of seizure-inducing screeching
for good measure.
Her take on Hank Williams' "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" could leave
Elvis stirred and shaken, and her version of Shel Silverstein's
"25 Minutes to Go" peeled back the campfire favorite to reveal the
silly tune for what it really is -- the panic of a person on the way
to be executed.
After multiple standing ovations and encores, Galas ended her stellar
show with an otherworldly version of "Gloomy Sunday" and made her
way to the lobby for a casual meet-and-greet with fans both old and
certainly new.