Fascinating Aida
Aida in Sydney
Review by Tony Smith
It is not often that a dedicated fan of an established act visits the theatre and comes away an even more ardent admirer. Too often, high expectations lead to disappointment, so those who go with an open mind enjoy a show the most. Unlike the fanatic, the uncommitted can relax; should the stars fall, there is not too much lost.
Yet Fascinating Aida at the Seymour Centre on February 25 was so engrossing that everyone relaxed into an absorbing display of wit and sophisticated musical skill.
Aida's act is based on the radical iconoclastic principle that sacred cows are meant to be slaughtered. Its approach is rooted in the irreverent tradition of satire.
The lyrics are direct astringent social criticism. They touch on the ridiculous in so many of the values that the middle classes think are serious, vital and deserving of respect.
They conjure up SNAGs at their wild man camps, beating on their tom-toms and returning to the kitchen to cook with brand new pans and leave the washing up. They lampoon the charity queens and assorted do-gooders who populate the "beautiful people" pages of the glossies.
Nor do the magazines themselves escape Aida's attention: they are especially savage on those columnists who aspire to teach the masses life skills — those survival manuals of the agony aunts who peddle diets, meditation, positive thinking, colonic irrigation and other means to a better, more fulfilled you.
Spending the entire evening laughing boisterously would be demanding and would ultimately bore. Aida is several steps ahead, because these politically powerful and sometimes politically incorrect bawdy ballads are punctuated and balanced by some haunting plaints about love.
There is tremendous pathos in pieces such as the Aida classic "Saturday Night". The sadness of lost opportunities and growing away from those we cherish is captured in "Look Mummy, No Hands", and there is whimsical regret in the tale of the "other woman" waiting for her lover to leave his unhappy marriage, only to find him "Much More Married" than she thought.
Clever words in themselves cannot captivate an audience the way Aida does. But these are delivered with theatrical precision and conveyed with both solo and ensemble musical brilliance.
Dillie Keane plays the piano in such a stirring and soulful way that there are times when your aural memory is convinced that there was a saxophone behind that last sultry blues number, or a driving base guitar in that last romp. And when she stretches the introductions with self-effacing anecdotes, she manages to achieve the kind of audience rapport that would be the envy of many big show business personalities.
Adele Anderson's stage presence is incredibly smooth and professional. Every elegant movement seems to be choreographed to perfection as she glides around numbers which suit her deep alto voice. Anyone who has studied German drama or puzzled over the musicality of Brecht's songs must appreciate the naughty, off-key Lieder.
Issy Van Randwyck is so versatile she seems like triplets. She burns the spotlight with red hot torch songs, teases us all into an illicit affair in "Let's Go To A Hotel" and raises hell in the punk classic "Kay Why?". Issy could be Doris Day, Marilyn Monroe or Madonna, except she's smarter and much more flexible.
But while Aida has three extraordinary talents, the musical magic is in the ensemble work. The harmonies are so subtle that at times it seems as though a solo voice has had some chords added, with tones like a rich string section. And there is power, too, as these voices are not wired up.
Aida cut through the nonsense of life and raise real questions about priorities and routines. By stripping away the superficial, they confront what is essentially human, basically ethical and finally worthwhile. You feel good because you have shared their brilliance and better balanced for having dared to laugh at your own foibles.
Aida have departed Sydney, but their music is available on the CD It, Wit, Don't Give A Shit, Girls. While this may lack the visual impact of the stage show, it remains therapeutic listening.