Tweet
SONGS OF MOURNING AND CELEBRATION
The Australian, Australia
Oct 11 2005
Martin Ball
October 11, 2005
Diamanda Galas: Defixiones
Hamer Hall. October 7.
Jon Rose: Pannikin
Fairfax Studio. October 8.
Victoria Hanna: Ancient Hebrew Rap
Spiegeltent. October 9.
DIAMANDA Galas is a serious performer and she sings about serious
subjects, typically pain, suffering and death. Mostly she sings about
victims: victims of AIDS, of torture, of depression, of injustice.
In Defixiones: Orders from the Dead, Galas sings about the victims
of genocide, specifically the massacres of Armenians, Assyrians and
Greeks in the early 20th century. Her texts are poems and laments
in various languages, and she draws on musical forms from the cultures
of victims and perpetrators.
The title Defixiones refers to the engraved "curse tablets"
laid on graves throughout the eastern Mediterranean to discourage
desecration. So, in telling these stories, Galas is in a sense voicing
the victims' curses on their murderers, much like the Erinyes of Greek
mythology, who harried criminals with the memory of their crimes. At
this level, Defixiones is a pointedly historical and political work,
determined not to forget the victims of the massacres or their
perpetrators, the nationalist Turks.
The accompanying booklet thoughtfully prints the texts in original
and translation but, with the auditorium in complete darkness,
it is impossible to follow and the songs all blend into one long,
wailing lament.
Galas pursues an intense and uncompromising aesthetic, but the lack of
irony in her performance inevitably exposes her to the possibility of
postmodern parody. So the gothic stage setting with opulent candelabra
and burning incense seems like the backdrop to a Hammer horror film.
More disturbingly, Galas's flowing robes and electronically distorted
voice suggest an incarnation of Darth Vader.
These unintentional connections are unfortunate because the subject
matter is so important. But when art takes itself too seriously,
it risks becoming caricature.
ISRAELI singer Victoria Hanna treats language and symbols in an
entirely different way. She combines ancient Hebrew texts with
a thoroughly modern musical aesthetic, and is not scared to draw
attention to the possibility of parody.
Backed by a band of guitar, viola, drums and sampler, her show is
part rap and groove, part performance poetry, and a big dose of
mystical indulgence.
Hanna draws extensively from the Song of Songs, and from the
Kabbalistic text The Book of Creation. She explores the symbology of
letters and numbers, and the sounds of the Hebrew letters.
But just when this is becoming way too esoteric, Hanna remembers to
entertain the audience in other ways. She takes on an archetypal Eve
role with a bowl of apples, stuffing them down her dress and munching
them into the microphone. She morphs out of her blue cape into a red
cocktail dress.
It's a bit all over the shop but, unlike Galas, whose monolithic work
admits only a single interpretation, Hanna's trippy poetics let you
take what you want, even if it may be nothing at all.
BY way of contrast to these two singers with their foreign languages
and obscure texts, Jon Rose's Pannikin project offered a much more
naturalistic representation of sound and meaning in the everyday world.
Pannikin is a collection of the sort of grassroots music-making that
doesn't usually make it into mainstream artistic consciousness. There
is Auntie Roseina Boston playing the gum leaf, Leslie Clark making
tunes by clicking his fingers, and Michael Greene, who can whistle
and hum two tunes at the same time.
Then there are the sounds of country life, with auctioneer John
Traeger going 90 to the dozen, Ashley Brophy cracking whips and a
whole orchestra of chainsaws ripping up the atmosphere. It's a great
reminder that, at the end of the day, music is really just sound and
rhythm, the rest is merely art.
The Australian, Australia
Oct 11 2005
Martin Ball
October 11, 2005
Diamanda Galas: Defixiones
Hamer Hall. October 7.
Jon Rose: Pannikin
Fairfax Studio. October 8.
Victoria Hanna: Ancient Hebrew Rap
Spiegeltent. October 9.
DIAMANDA Galas is a serious performer and she sings about serious
subjects, typically pain, suffering and death. Mostly she sings about
victims: victims of AIDS, of torture, of depression, of injustice.
In Defixiones: Orders from the Dead, Galas sings about the victims
of genocide, specifically the massacres of Armenians, Assyrians and
Greeks in the early 20th century. Her texts are poems and laments
in various languages, and she draws on musical forms from the cultures
of victims and perpetrators.
The title Defixiones refers to the engraved "curse tablets"
laid on graves throughout the eastern Mediterranean to discourage
desecration. So, in telling these stories, Galas is in a sense voicing
the victims' curses on their murderers, much like the Erinyes of Greek
mythology, who harried criminals with the memory of their crimes. At
this level, Defixiones is a pointedly historical and political work,
determined not to forget the victims of the massacres or their
perpetrators, the nationalist Turks.
The accompanying booklet thoughtfully prints the texts in original
and translation but, with the auditorium in complete darkness,
it is impossible to follow and the songs all blend into one long,
wailing lament.
Galas pursues an intense and uncompromising aesthetic, but the lack of
irony in her performance inevitably exposes her to the possibility of
postmodern parody. So the gothic stage setting with opulent candelabra
and burning incense seems like the backdrop to a Hammer horror film.
More disturbingly, Galas's flowing robes and electronically distorted
voice suggest an incarnation of Darth Vader.
These unintentional connections are unfortunate because the subject
matter is so important. But when art takes itself too seriously,
it risks becoming caricature.
ISRAELI singer Victoria Hanna treats language and symbols in an
entirely different way. She combines ancient Hebrew texts with
a thoroughly modern musical aesthetic, and is not scared to draw
attention to the possibility of parody.
Backed by a band of guitar, viola, drums and sampler, her show is
part rap and groove, part performance poetry, and a big dose of
mystical indulgence.
Hanna draws extensively from the Song of Songs, and from the
Kabbalistic text The Book of Creation. She explores the symbology of
letters and numbers, and the sounds of the Hebrew letters.
But just when this is becoming way too esoteric, Hanna remembers to
entertain the audience in other ways. She takes on an archetypal Eve
role with a bowl of apples, stuffing them down her dress and munching
them into the microphone. She morphs out of her blue cape into a red
cocktail dress.
It's a bit all over the shop but, unlike Galas, whose monolithic work
admits only a single interpretation, Hanna's trippy poetics let you
take what you want, even if it may be nothing at all.
BY way of contrast to these two singers with their foreign languages
and obscure texts, Jon Rose's Pannikin project offered a much more
naturalistic representation of sound and meaning in the everyday world.
Pannikin is a collection of the sort of grassroots music-making that
doesn't usually make it into mainstream artistic consciousness. There
is Auntie Roseina Boston playing the gum leaf, Leslie Clark making
tunes by clicking his fingers, and Michael Greene, who can whistle
and hum two tunes at the same time.
Then there are the sounds of country life, with auctioneer John
Traeger going 90 to the dozen, Ashley Brophy cracking whips and a
whole orchestra of chainsaws ripping up the atmosphere. It's a great
reminder that, at the end of the day, music is really just sound and
rhythm, the rest is merely art.