Melbourne
Walking through the immigration museum the other day with the travelling companion, navigator and tea drinker. Obstensibly we were there to have a look at the Greek Treasures show (highly recommended!)but I was indulging in a spot of people watching as well.
In particular there was one guy who caught my eye. He was sat in a hard wooden dining chair, obviously oblivious to the world. So what was it that had him shutting out today so comprehensively?
On the wall, projected through a dodgy pinhole camera or something was the camera work of a 1950's immigrant, colour homemovie film projected onto a bare wall views of the coast from on board ship. Poorly shot and jiggly, they nonetheless triggered something in this guy, he was still there when we left half an hour later.
We were in Melbourne for the
Friday night, the Townhall and a double header of Dylan Moran and Ross Noble. Moran is probably mostly known as Bernard Black from Black Books, a Britcom that transcended anything else on tv for its all too brief lifespan. Moran did a short set, limited apparently by the need to make the audience stand in the rain whilst resetting the room for Noble. Chainsmoking and swigging from a handy bottle of beer, Moran launched into a quick fire examination of why we the audience were mad, and how he could fix us. Which he proceeded to do by making us laugh like drains for the sixty or so minutes he lumbered about the stage.
Highlights included a detailed exploration of the difference between the bulldozing mono dimensional argument of the chap, and the gazelle like, guerilla tactics of the chapette, and how this usually has but one outcome. Also stuff on religion, the pity felt by Catholics for Protestants who have but hymns and guilt to sustain them and the withering contempt for popular music of the prematurally mysanthropic Moran.
"Its a song, I remember the title, Funk Soul Brother, mainly because it is annoying, and it is also the whole lyric"
The set rips by, then we are arguing with the power mad poseur in the Green Staff T-Shirt who derives obvious gratification from the following.
"We have tickets for Ross Noble, can we wait here in the foyer?"
"No it is all allocated seating, so it would be chaos if we let you wait here"
"But"
"You will have to go out and join the queue.
So we stood in the pouring rain for half an hour mulling over the vacuity at the heart of Green Shirted idiots logic. How in God's name would we cause chaos by waiting in the dry? Take it a step further, given we were early, why should we have to wait until nearly last to get into the venue. Furthermore, two words
Service + customer, put them in any order you wish
Anyway, eventually we get back in.
Loud music, lights and wacky stage set.
On bounds a heavilly accented comedian in wacky clothing, who proceeds to start his show by talking about how hard it is to start. Then we get a riff on getting used to his habit of not remembering what he is saying, round it off with the "man with a limp walk" and the "gimp"voice and it comes as a shock to realise that we are not actually watching Billy Connolly at all, it is actually that other honorary Aussie comedian Ross Noble.
After much flogging of a joke about exploding vagina's by Noble, I am sitting there thinking Dylan Moran is restricted to one hour, but you can seemingly go til one of us dies?
Yeah we laughed, but were left wanting more of the Dylan Moran school of social observation and less clowning.
Outside it is still raining.
Next morning, quick walk up to Lygon Street, where eventually we find somewhere where we can get breakfast, Bacon, Eggs, Mushrooms - the good stuff in the University Cafe.
Into Readings, $160 and a copy of Sullivan's Travels later and we are wandering back towards the city.
Tonights agenda calls for some athleticism.
Tim Minchin at 7
The Kransky Sisters at 8 15
then faff about until
Rich Hall and Mike Willmot at 11 15
Minchin is in the archetypal smokey basement venue- the Hi Fi on Swanston Street.A mix of fantastic musicianship, witty songs and freewheeling stand up, he deserves to have the reputation of someone like Noble. Great songs include "I'm so #$R%ing Rock", a beat poem inspired by Elliot and the infuriatingly catchy "Canvas Bags" possibly topped by his anthem for peace in Palestine
lyric "we don't eat pigs, you don't eat pigs, let's not eat pigs together!"
Mysteriously, a babysitting grandpa has brought a three month old baby to the gig. Minchin, zeros in when the baby makes a sound, then spends the next half hour running a riff on the whole parenthood thing.
The guy is unmissable,so don't.
Then we have our own little chase scene, ripping through crowds, past guys named Ahmed who congregate outside of the 7-11 on Swanston, we screach to a halt outside the tented venue as the Kransky's are beginning.
Not sure about the Kransky Sisters,good musos, amusing idea etc.
Problem is, if you have seen "In Siberia Tonight" then you have seen the whole Kransky Sisters repetoire.
The only real difference is Arva gets a line, or at least to put down the Euphonium and scream.
Audience participation time and after much searching a chap called James is chosen.
Wacky coincidene, he just happens to be a presenter on one of the ABC's Lifestlye shows.
Labourious set up so the Kransky's can do Popcorn, then Highway to Hell and Long Way to the Top then outside for a quick merchandising opportunity.
Minchin wins the battle of the comedy bands.
We actually went into a Starbucks and bought very average Coffee, it was open and there was the slight problem of rain to deal with, OK!
Queue forms for Rich Hall, the bouncer gets us to move around a bit,lets people stay drier. Then he goes off somewhere and one of the stellar crew in Green Shirts appears and starts trying to throw her weight around.
"Why are there two queues?"
"Move here, move there"
To a consumer we ignored her. Yay for us!
We get let in, then for reasons known only to themselves, we end up in a crush on a flight of stairs whilst the basement room is empty. Let in late, the gig starts late.
On comes Rich Hall.
A true master of reading an audience. He very quickly gets us under control with some stuff about paddling to the gig in a kayak, then a long sequence on War on Terror, sharp observations in the inimitable Hall ranting style.
After a 45 minute set races by we are confronted with the sweaty smut of Canadian love god Mike Willmot. Close to the knuckle as it were, do not ask for I cannot say.
A scream nonetheless.
Quick improvised encore then out.
Pecking order?
Moran
Minchin
Hall
Noble
Kransky's
Outside is another interesting phenomenon. The steps of the Town Hall are obviously the place to be. Comics come and go, not talking of Michaelangelo. It's interesting to see the attitude. Bob Franklin scuttles past, head down and wary, followed by Rachael Berger looking stylish but low key.
On the steps is everyones favourite media personality Wil Anderson, seemingly doing erverything he can to schmooze, and or, be seen by the great unwashed. Wandering among the crowd, looking pleased to be there is Christina Davis, soi distant Big Brother contestant doing a one woman show. Dave Hughes tries to get into the building but is waylaid by a fan. She is tactile and gushy, he looks stoic. Dave Callan and one or two other familiar faces move quickly through the crowd, Anderson is still on the steps. While we are on the star spotting thing, Dylan Moran, Wife, Child and Stroller in hand were seen taking the air in Fed Square earlier in the day.
It was interesting to see people notice him, then deliberately try to be unobtrusive about their recognition.
Gotta say, in the queue, we strike up a conversation with our third codger couple of the weekend. These guys deserve some kind of award, fifteen shows a year at the festival, 12 30 in the morning it is pouring outside, we are in a smokey basement and a large Canadian is talking about the interface of fingers and bottoms during carnal congress. Our codgers are helpless with laughter like the rest of us.
Good on ya!
Editors Note This trip was not sponsored by the Melbourne Comedy Festival, cast and crew of Come Up Screaming choose to fly Virgin and stay wherever is cheap, especially the groovy little hotel in Bank Place with the free Foxtel!
In particular there was one guy who caught my eye. He was sat in a hard wooden dining chair, obviously oblivious to the world. So what was it that had him shutting out today so comprehensively?
On the wall, projected through a dodgy pinhole camera or something was the camera work of a 1950's immigrant, colour homemovie film projected onto a bare wall views of the coast from on board ship. Poorly shot and jiggly, they nonetheless triggered something in this guy, he was still there when we left half an hour later.
We were in Melbourne for the
"Comedy Festival Tm reg."something of a tradition, or at least for the last couple of years.
Friday night, the Townhall and a double header of Dylan Moran and Ross Noble. Moran is probably mostly known as Bernard Black from Black Books, a Britcom that transcended anything else on tv for its all too brief lifespan. Moran did a short set, limited apparently by the need to make the audience stand in the rain whilst resetting the room for Noble. Chainsmoking and swigging from a handy bottle of beer, Moran launched into a quick fire examination of why we the audience were mad, and how he could fix us. Which he proceeded to do by making us laugh like drains for the sixty or so minutes he lumbered about the stage.
Highlights included a detailed exploration of the difference between the bulldozing mono dimensional argument of the chap, and the gazelle like, guerilla tactics of the chapette, and how this usually has but one outcome. Also stuff on religion, the pity felt by Catholics for Protestants who have but hymns and guilt to sustain them and the withering contempt for popular music of the prematurally mysanthropic Moran.
"Its a song, I remember the title, Funk Soul Brother, mainly because it is annoying, and it is also the whole lyric"
The set rips by, then we are arguing with the power mad poseur in the Green Staff T-Shirt who derives obvious gratification from the following.
"We have tickets for Ross Noble, can we wait here in the foyer?"
"No it is all allocated seating, so it would be chaos if we let you wait here"
"But"
"You will have to go out and join the queue.
So we stood in the pouring rain for half an hour mulling over the vacuity at the heart of Green Shirted idiots logic. How in God's name would we cause chaos by waiting in the dry? Take it a step further, given we were early, why should we have to wait until nearly last to get into the venue. Furthermore, two words
Service + customer, put them in any order you wish
Anyway, eventually we get back in.
Loud music, lights and wacky stage set.
On bounds a heavilly accented comedian in wacky clothing, who proceeds to start his show by talking about how hard it is to start. Then we get a riff on getting used to his habit of not remembering what he is saying, round it off with the "man with a limp walk" and the "gimp"voice and it comes as a shock to realise that we are not actually watching Billy Connolly at all, it is actually that other honorary Aussie comedian Ross Noble.
After much flogging of a joke about exploding vagina's by Noble, I am sitting there thinking Dylan Moran is restricted to one hour, but you can seemingly go til one of us dies?
Yeah we laughed, but were left wanting more of the Dylan Moran school of social observation and less clowning.
Outside it is still raining.
Next morning, quick walk up to Lygon Street, where eventually we find somewhere where we can get breakfast, Bacon, Eggs, Mushrooms - the good stuff in the University Cafe.
Into Readings, $160 and a copy of Sullivan's Travels later and we are wandering back towards the city.
Tonights agenda calls for some athleticism.
Tim Minchin at 7
The Kransky Sisters at 8 15
then faff about until
Rich Hall and Mike Willmot at 11 15
Minchin is in the archetypal smokey basement venue- the Hi Fi on Swanston Street.A mix of fantastic musicianship, witty songs and freewheeling stand up, he deserves to have the reputation of someone like Noble. Great songs include "I'm so #$R%ing Rock", a beat poem inspired by Elliot and the infuriatingly catchy "Canvas Bags" possibly topped by his anthem for peace in Palestine
lyric "we don't eat pigs, you don't eat pigs, let's not eat pigs together!"
Mysteriously, a babysitting grandpa has brought a three month old baby to the gig. Minchin, zeros in when the baby makes a sound, then spends the next half hour running a riff on the whole parenthood thing.
The guy is unmissable,so don't.
Then we have our own little chase scene, ripping through crowds, past guys named Ahmed who congregate outside of the 7-11 on Swanston, we screach to a halt outside the tented venue as the Kransky's are beginning.
Not sure about the Kransky Sisters,good musos, amusing idea etc.
Problem is, if you have seen "In Siberia Tonight" then you have seen the whole Kransky Sisters repetoire.
The only real difference is Arva gets a line, or at least to put down the Euphonium and scream.
Audience participation time and after much searching a chap called James is chosen.
Wacky coincidene, he just happens to be a presenter on one of the ABC's Lifestlye shows.
Labourious set up so the Kransky's can do Popcorn, then Highway to Hell and Long Way to the Top then outside for a quick merchandising opportunity.
Minchin wins the battle of the comedy bands.
We actually went into a Starbucks and bought very average Coffee, it was open and there was the slight problem of rain to deal with, OK!
Queue forms for Rich Hall, the bouncer gets us to move around a bit,lets people stay drier. Then he goes off somewhere and one of the stellar crew in Green Shirts appears and starts trying to throw her weight around.
"Why are there two queues?"
"Move here, move there"
To a consumer we ignored her. Yay for us!
We get let in, then for reasons known only to themselves, we end up in a crush on a flight of stairs whilst the basement room is empty. Let in late, the gig starts late.
On comes Rich Hall.
A true master of reading an audience. He very quickly gets us under control with some stuff about paddling to the gig in a kayak, then a long sequence on War on Terror, sharp observations in the inimitable Hall ranting style.
After a 45 minute set races by we are confronted with the sweaty smut of Canadian love god Mike Willmot. Close to the knuckle as it were, do not ask for I cannot say.
A scream nonetheless.
Quick improvised encore then out.
Pecking order?
Moran
Minchin
Hall
Noble
Kransky's
Outside is another interesting phenomenon. The steps of the Town Hall are obviously the place to be. Comics come and go, not talking of Michaelangelo. It's interesting to see the attitude. Bob Franklin scuttles past, head down and wary, followed by Rachael Berger looking stylish but low key.
On the steps is everyones favourite media personality Wil Anderson, seemingly doing erverything he can to schmooze, and or, be seen by the great unwashed. Wandering among the crowd, looking pleased to be there is Christina Davis, soi distant Big Brother contestant doing a one woman show. Dave Hughes tries to get into the building but is waylaid by a fan. She is tactile and gushy, he looks stoic. Dave Callan and one or two other familiar faces move quickly through the crowd, Anderson is still on the steps. While we are on the star spotting thing, Dylan Moran, Wife, Child and Stroller in hand were seen taking the air in Fed Square earlier in the day.
It was interesting to see people notice him, then deliberately try to be unobtrusive about their recognition.
Gotta say, in the queue, we strike up a conversation with our third codger couple of the weekend. These guys deserve some kind of award, fifteen shows a year at the festival, 12 30 in the morning it is pouring outside, we are in a smokey basement and a large Canadian is talking about the interface of fingers and bottoms during carnal congress. Our codgers are helpless with laughter like the rest of us.
Good on ya!
Editors Note This trip was not sponsored by the Melbourne Comedy Festival, cast and crew of Come Up Screaming choose to fly Virgin and stay wherever is cheap, especially the groovy little hotel in Bank Place with the free Foxtel!
posted by caerdadh at 3:55 pm
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