On Song Artist in the News

This is an article I wrote for The Age. 

99% conflict-of-interest free!

"AS NEWSPAPERS fold around the globe, one Melbourne visual artist-cum-reporter is turning pages - and heads - at the Edinburgh International Festival.

Visitors who enter Edinburgh's Dean Gallery this month are greeted by the gentle strumming of a ukulele and a singer crooning about a new archaeological find. On the hour, there's a pop song with up-to-date news headlines.

In the next bulletin, you might hear a rap about female boxers in the Olympics, or perhaps a gospel number about the economic recovery: ''Figures show, it will be slow.''

Hark! is a singing news performance project by Melbourne artist Gabrielle de Vietri. It is part of the Enlightenments, the visual arts program curated by Juliana Engberg, artistic director of the Australian Centre for Contemporary Art in Southbank.

Hark! features two Melbourne actors (Stuart Bowden and Ben Hjorth), one musician (Kathryn Sutherland) and a journalist (that's me). And it has been making headlines of its own.

The Guardian sings its praises, featuring the piece on the front of its arts section and as part of the soundtrack to its online Edinburgh Festival highlights. In The Scotsman, the piece is ''superb'', and de Vietri and the band have made numerous radio appearances.

This, in Edinburgh, in August, as hundreds of artists peruse the papers every morning, sighing that their work was unappreciated, or worse, ignored by the press.

De Vietri attributes the success of the piece to its immediacy and populism. Gallery-goers, met with a song about Edinburgh's city council, can easily recognise their world in the work, and a radio team can snatch a grab from the bulletin. ''This just in,'' we harmonise, on the hour. But de Vietri is not completely at ease playing the role of media darling.

''In a world where not understanding is so often a part of art, it's hard to justify making work that is so easy to understand, that can be grabbed, that uses populist forms in a non-ironic way.''

She says the real achievement of the piece has been its reception by the public.

''My work is about the relationship between people, and it's great that people can participate and influence this work.''"

Opening Night Blues

Heard the one about the comedian trying new material? So, this audience walk into a room, right, expecting an hour of laughs. Except what they get is… um, hang on, let me just check my notes. Oh, ok, right. So, this comedian asks the audience how much time they have left, and then, wait for it, checks the set list! Get it? Oh, well, it’ll be much funnier next week. Did I mention this is all new material, folks? So, what’s next? Oh, yeah, right. So, these dust storms… 

Trying out new material in front of an audience is an important part of any comedian’s practice, and often makes for an exciting show. But it needs to be done in a way that doesn’t compromise the quality of opening night. To ignore this offends the reputation of hard-working comedians, the festival of which you are part, not to mention your paying audience.  

The Melbourne Fringe Festival opened last week, boasting more than 80 shows in the comedy section, from big international acts to local up-and-comers. The Fringe has always had a strong and commendable emphasis on brave, curious art. On its website, it promotes “fresh and contemporary” work, combining “artistic quality and experimentation.”  

Plus, it’s held a handy couple of months before the December deadline for entry into the Melbourne International Comedy Festival, the biggest date in the comedy calendar. So it’s to be expected – welcomed, even – that many comedians see the Fringe as a platform for exploring new ideas.  

Over the opening weekend, I saw plenty of successful pushing of boundaries: comedians reading humorous essays, recounting personal histories, or just trying out new jokes. Experimentation is to be highly commended, unless it’s in a show that just isn’t prepared.  

In one show I’ve seen – not billed as a work-in-progress – a very good comedian was salvaged by his charm. Just. Throughout the show, he kept turning to his wife, standing in the wings with a set list, like a teacher in a school concert. The constant references to the great show we would have seen – if we hadn’t come on opening night – didn’t help.  

“Actually, I was supposed to do that other bit first,” he explained. “that would have made the joke much better.”  

Cue: awkward laughter.  

I’ve found myself saying “It’ll get better over the run,” “Worth a look in the second week,” or, worse, “It’ll be good in the comedy festival, next April.” But, while development over the show’s season is to be celebrated, early audiences shouldn’t feel like they’re paying for a dress rehearsal. And while the average ticket price is slightly less than the comedy festival, $20 is a lot to be forking out when it feels like the performer hasn’t done their homework.   

The work-in-progress is now a comic sub-genre in itself, and there are several examples of comedians exploiting it to great effect in this year’s program, ironing out kinks by incorporating the ironing board into their routines.  

Epitomising the work-in-progress style is English comic Mark Watson's cunningly-named show, ‘Work In Progress.’ Watson made the audience a part of the creative process; things like checking the time became a game between performer and audience. So, rather than appearing like he hadn’t learned his show, Watson was inviting us to join in. Big difference. We felt like a part of the fun, rather than a rabbit in a make-up testing laboratory.  

US superstar Arj Barker was on ABC Radio with Jon Faine this week, discussing the need to trial jokes in front of an audience before you know whether they’ll sink or swim. He’s undoubtedly right, and the Fringe is a great place to dive in. 

Good comedy looks effortless – but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to put in the effort. In fact, the difference between experimentation and laziness is the difference between pushing the boundaries and simply being unprepared.  

Like any other performance, an opening night is an opening night. Actors don’t get away with not knowing their lines, or a singer their melody.  

Part of the thrill of live comedy is that it relies on the performer responding immediately to what works and what doesn’t. Yes, it’s hard to prepare for that. But being familiar with your material – even if it’s new – helps.  

If it’s a work-in-progress, put that on the flyer, and work within that. Nobody benefits from pretending a show is ready to be performed, when it isn’t.  

You guys have been great. If you liked the show, tell your friends. If you didn’t, come back next week when I actually have one.