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DEFIXIONES: DIAMANDA GALAS
by Sybil Nolan
Herald Sun (Melbourne, Australia)
October 11, 2005 Tuesday
Where: Hamer Hall, Friday
DIAMANDA Galas's one-woman show, Defixiones, intended to honour
the Armenian, Assyrian and Greek dead killed by Turks during the
disintegration of the Ottoman Empire in and after World War I.
How effective it was in its stated purpose depended on the audience's
knowledge of this awful part of history, for we got little help from
the show itself.
Defixiones ran 80 minutes and was sung or recited in several languages,
including Greek and Turkish, with only a few minutes of English. Yet
the show lacked a narrative structure to explain the content to those
watching and listening.
This, then, was a Performance with a capital P, and you were either
spellbound by the voice and presence of Galas -- who appeared covered
from head to toe in black robes, with only her face and hands showing
-- or you were irrelevant.
It seemed there were many aficionados of this Californian Greek artist
in the audience, for she was rewarded with a standing ovation.
Galas has a truly amazing voice and uses it like a weapon to assault
the ears. Moving between piano and music stand on the darkened stage,
a microphone in front of her, a harsh soundtrack booming behind her,
she found 100 different ways to throw her voice.
Sometimes it evoked a long elegant spear, sometimes a stone discus
slowing spinning towards the audience. At one point, as Galas sat
in profile at the piano, I could have sworn it became a curved steel
blade flying above her head and exiting stage right, perhaps impaling
unwary stage crew in the wings.
by Sybil Nolan
Herald Sun (Melbourne, Australia)
October 11, 2005 Tuesday
Where: Hamer Hall, Friday
DIAMANDA Galas's one-woman show, Defixiones, intended to honour
the Armenian, Assyrian and Greek dead killed by Turks during the
disintegration of the Ottoman Empire in and after World War I.
How effective it was in its stated purpose depended on the audience's
knowledge of this awful part of history, for we got little help from
the show itself.
Defixiones ran 80 minutes and was sung or recited in several languages,
including Greek and Turkish, with only a few minutes of English. Yet
the show lacked a narrative structure to explain the content to those
watching and listening.
This, then, was a Performance with a capital P, and you were either
spellbound by the voice and presence of Galas -- who appeared covered
from head to toe in black robes, with only her face and hands showing
-- or you were irrelevant.
It seemed there were many aficionados of this Californian Greek artist
in the audience, for she was rewarded with a standing ovation.
Galas has a truly amazing voice and uses it like a weapon to assault
the ears. Moving between piano and music stand on the darkened stage,
a microphone in front of her, a harsh soundtrack booming behind her,
she found 100 different ways to throw her voice.
Sometimes it evoked a long elegant spear, sometimes a stone discus
slowing spinning towards the audience. At one point, as Galas sat
in profile at the piano, I could have sworn it became a curved steel
blade flying above her head and exiting stage right, perhaps impaling
unwary stage crew in the wings.