Adrian Threadgould

One Man Lord of the Rings

Our collective nerd identity is preparing to be indulged. Some hide their bespectacled anaemic in the darkest depths of their unconscious. Others, like Charlie Ross, use their power to enchant. “I’m more of a member of the Nation of Nerds than the League of Thespians,” admits Ross, whose chaotic performances of ONE MAN LORD OF THE RINGS have wowed audiences across this liddle earth. Pardon. I couldn’t help but share my own nerdish squint with Ross – it’s best to be honest. “Any true geek can tell the difference between a fellow dork and some actor pretending to be one… as much as I may poke fun at the films, I love them with all my geeky being. I make people laugh at me nerding out.”

Not seen Ross’s previous fun-sized incarnation One Man Star Wars Trilogy ? Then google and be stunned. He almost busts a larynx morphing from Wookie to Star Destroyer in one flailing mess. Ross’ alacrity and dexterity as he condenses these famously epic stories with no props is astounding. How in khazad-dum does he do it? “I merely wrote a script from what I could recall off the top of my noggin. The logic being that whatever I could remember should (in theory) be what the average person could. I’m extremely OCD, and as such have no need for palm cards – that is, unless I become compulsive about palm cards for some reason. I wouldn’t rule anything out.”

Thankfully, Ross isn’t obsessed with the meticulous recreation of many life-long fantasies. “As for me making mistakes, I have to say that a show without mistakes is like a sauce without spice. What would be the point? The more ‘mistakes’ the more alive the show becomes.” The Dark One knows how he keeps up the pace for a whole hour, but he doesn’t have time to ensure no one walks away saying ‘it jushht washhn’t true to the booksh… mwa-hey, glavin!” Instead, you’re in stitches from his treasonous self mockery.

As much as I gawk at his elven-like prowess, it’s refreshing as lembas to hear Ross isn’t meritorious about his work. “It doesn’t take Yoda to figure out that my shows capitalise upon the success of established works. If I didn’t have these works to exploit, I’d be still be somewhere in Canada, probably slinging coffee for a living. In a nutshell: I am one lucky man.”

And so are we, the Nation of Nerds and Realm of Men alike. If you’re still not convinced, or looking to level-up, why not try a drinking game during the show? Charlie’s tip – “How about every time Aragorn whispers a line? Or every time Samwise says ‘Frooodooo’? Or alternatively, when Eomer looks pissed off, constipated, or a combination of both.”

See OMLOTR performed live at The Playhouse on Saturday March 19. Tickets are $57 and are available from the Canberra Theatre Centre website.

Joe Oppenheimer - Time Ticks A Way [Independent]

5 out of 5

Joe Oppenheimer does not wait on destiny. To find a more charismatic storyteller you’d scour the four lands and return empty-handed. Time Ticks A Way represents the first scribing of Oppenheimer’s tales, and the heart sings as the troubadour enchants and transports. Story of You resonates as a chronicle of love and the resigned understanding of its transience. Oppenheimer positively shines in recognition of this fragile beauty. The undying melody and interlacing harmonies carry through to Hush Penelope with his emblem of blissful heartache. The femininity and symmetry in Penelope’s vocals gives purity to this song that tears open the sky at its climax. Time Time gives Oppenheimer’s motif the rag-time treatment. Knowing very well the futility of his attempts to dissect his subject, Joe occupies the urge with a wink and a nod. The Man Who Saved The World is a voice from another Age. Its eerily concise wisdom and train-like cadence reminds one of that other wandering folk poet, while Should You Ever closes with a haunting note of love beyond decaying senses. Oppenheimer’s songs often involve reflection or foretelling and the cyclical nature of time. This is indicative of the man himself, ever curious as to the weaving of life. Being his most natural expression, his songs carry his insight with a genuine timelessness. Oppenheimer will continue to weave his stories into songs articulate and prophetic. One cannot help but be drawn to the pattern.

Time Ticks A Way is available from Smiths Alternative Bookshop and Landspeed. 

James Fahy and His Trio - The Sun Will burn Through This Cloud [Independent]

5 out of 5

If Fahy’s first recording, the five-tracked The Sun Will Burn Through This Cloud is to set a path, it heralds a voyage of discovery filled with inspiration. Opener Throw Yourself trickles into the heart then bursts like a solar flare; its melody and harmonies testament to Fahy’s dedication to his art. His vocal range and emotive brilliance burns through in Numbers, Forever. He explodes and cascades with a dexterity that evidences true talent. West Virginia Coin speaks of folly and forgiveness but capable hands lead us through an unorthodox time signature that shows adeptness at composition. When ...But Not That Hard rolls into view, Fahy has already built an expectation of greatness. A Song Is Not The Place ends the album with Fahy caressing away sentimental notions of notes wrapped up with string. Not one to dismiss admiration, he gently reminds us that life is not to be lived through another’s eyes, keen though they may be.

Throughout, Fahy effortlessly sweeps between soothing and aching, his voice weaves around the heart with thread finer than silk. With the exceptional aid of Bec Taylor, Chris Endrey and Joe Oppenheimer, Fahy has captured a real sense of beauty and hope that permeates and warms with that familiar closeness of friends.

The Sun Will Burn Through This Cloud is available from Smiths Alternative Bookshop and Landspeed. 

British India - Avalanche [Shock]

British India’s identification and frustration with disaffected youth comes through loud and true in Avalanche. A call to arms – scattering riffs and vocals listless then urgent – you’ve no option but to raise your ears at this reflection of modern alienation and disgruntled ambivalence. These are songs of love unattainable beyond windshields of muted uncertainty, yet they reveal the cage of social construct suffocating a wasteland of youth. Frontman Declan Melia urges expression of desire with proverbial brick, yet he’s afflicted with the same disease – an enraged empathy pervades.

Vanilla licks with violent jealousy of unrequited love, screaming in the anguish of discarded hope. Beneath the Satellites aches for an escape to a new experience, and recognises the transience and inherent futility in the attempt. Reminded how amazing an age it is, Melia’s response – “then why do I feel like I’m missing out” – really says it all. Ironically, such an accurate expression of a generation in isolated turmoil actually stands in solidarity and sounds a cry to the confused and aggravated at an inexplicable existence. Avalanche pleads with us to not let a maze of cold pavements steal away our hope and passion.

One Man Star Wars Trilogy

Charles Ross is an inspiration to manic, role-playing children in living rooms everywhere. He describes his One Man Star Wars Trilogy as a "mime extravaganza" similar to a "child freaking out, playing in the schoolground". It conjures up quite an image of our lonely hero on stage - frenetically spinning this way and that, bringing to life his imaginary friends (and ours) through voice and gesticulation alone. No props, no costumes - child's play.

But it's more than just some geeky thespian who loves the sound of his own voice...as a Lightsaber. Or at least this is what I try to stress to Ross - that this is a massive deal in terms of the translation of three of the most well-loved films ever - but he's disarming in modest reply: "this has been shits and giggles in a lot of ways". Yes, he feels he's "part of something bigger", "sauce to the goose" (figure that one out). But he admits "it's nothing short of a fluky miracle that it even happened." Adding: "If I'd set out with the intention of doing what has occurred, I'm not sure it would have gone as well as if it organically unfolded".

OK, so I'd gone a bit overboard with the whole 'it's the most important thing since the films were made' angle. I guess I'm just another fanatic. But I take heart that I'm lost in the ranks of the many more pathetic that come before me. Ross has been in close contact with a few of these Lucas Lovers - a scary thought when one has received an electronic fore-telling of doom. Ross recalls it's warning with a flourish: "The fact that I do this for a living, is evidence of the coming of the apocalypse". Nothing short of universal destruction - that's how important this is!! "I didn't think the end of the world would work out so well for me! ... Me and The Four Dork-men of the Apocalypse." Ross isn't afraid, he's got his Wookie impersonation to save him from any would-be aggressors. Or wait, "I'm not gonna get rolled by a bunch of geeks, I don't think. Perhaps I'll get ripped on the internet, but that's about it."

As swift and adept as Ross' wit is, he can't reenact every scene of a six hour epic. Ross says he relies on "the power of other people's imagination to fill in the blanks...There's a huge leap between the audience and myself." Some scenes he'll do, some he won't, and he'll change it up to keep it interesting from night to night (1200 shows and counting). If you're a Star Wars fan, you know you need to see this show. If you're not, and you're hoping to follow the plot somehow...This is not the theatrical interpretation you're looking for.

Ross brings his epic one man show to The Playhouse on Saturday November 14. There's two shows, one at 3pm and 7.30pm. Call 6275 2700 for bookings.

Joe Gideon and The Shark - Harum Scarum

You realise you've been transported to a strange land. Stranded with your unashamedly pathological tour guide, Joe Gideon, you fear but ache for what lies ahead. Harum Scarum, the opener, casts a spell. This mystic troubadour has a rawness and conviction in him that draws you in and scares the heck outta you simultaneously. He is the biographer of characters tragic and inspirational and a scathing self-critic. His lyrics turn your head - reflections of purpose mixed with futility, somehow leaving you with faith in a mad mad world. This is a personal album - introspective, vindictive, a rite of passage. Joe might be speaking to you directly, such is his vocal style of storyteller and foreteller. The songs seem like vehicles through which he narrates; the band occasionally wrenching away like a separate entity reclaiming and reminding its mouthpiece that it is not to be outdone. The sound is deep and bold blues rock. Shifting from rolling and haunting to uplifting with gospel backings provided by his sister Viva, 'The Shark'; it's like a rattlesnake armed with a wink and a nod.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you... Harum Scarum.

Various Artists Retro Rage

A slab of five homegrown hits on disc two saves this compilation from becoming more tragic ‘80s party fodder. Nick and those seedy lads lead a procession of iconic Aussie tracks (The Church, The Triffids, The Go-Betweens, The Saints) to ease that familiar ‘I want to laugh but I just can’t handle any more synth!’  tension that any ‘80s album induces. There are a few rebel fighters like Bowie and De La Soul, but regretfullythe dark side (led by Salt-n-Pepa and Olivia Newton-John) overcome with their continual crimes against sound. The sad thing is, Rage actually chose a representative sample of said decade, so if you’ve had
an operation to adjust your drum-machine tolerance to Bananarama, pick up a copy. I’d suggest the DVD – attack of the padded shoulders!

The Vines / Wolf & Cub @ ANU Bar, Friday October 24

Cataclysmic tribal escapade. The first words that enter my head as Wolf & Cub unleash their devastating amplitude. These guys are ‘fingers-in-the-ears-yet-can’t-back-away’ loud, and sound like Black Holes & Revelations careening to Earth to collide with De-loused in the Comatorium. One sensed an experimental and adventurous show, extended tracks being drawn into each other and dead-air a crime. With Craig & Co running a tad late, the dueling drums got an extra long thrashing, and one was left with the sensation of just not having enough limbs to slap along to all that percussion.

It’s become part of Australian music folklore – a ticket to The Vines is a gamble. Perhaps it’s this uncertainty in anticipation that charges the crowd, resulting in an explosive extended entrance when the boys finally emerge. A stripped-back ANU Bar allows unobstructed vision of backstage, and this makes for an honest, raw and strangely intimate experience. This had the feel of a Vines who were back without assuming their greatness, playing with the verve of a band keen to convince. Applause was graciously accepted after each track – a refreshing sight from a band who could really demand much more reverence. The appreciation was reciprocated on the sweaty side of the barrier, as new tracks like He’s a Rocker and Merry-Go-Round electrified as much as icons like Get Free and Outtathaway. The discharging intro riffs of these reinvigorated Vines are as distinctive as the swirling guitars and vicious chorus leaps. This gamble was definitely paying out.

And then there was Craig. Whether you think he’s touched by genius or his eccentricity is more fuelled by Mary Jane, his uniqueness is undeniable. One can see the imagination flickering behind the semi-glazed, fringe-cloaked eyes. How Nicholls sees the world… we can only guess at the strawberry-fielding expanse of that landscape. Happy to substitute lyrics for squawls and facial gesticulation, the man makes sure you just can’t look away for fear of missing that characteristic guitar-lead spill or swilling of sweet brown sugar water. Lost in hallucinations and negotiations with stage and clothing alike, the last-second dash to the mic evidenced a devotion to the show that a Highly Evolved Craig might sometimes not have shared.

Energy and psychedelic unpredictability, fused with enough musicianship and respect for their art that reminds you why these guys were once heralded as the saviours of rock. Somehow I don’t think this matters as much to them as just bouncing a crowd and smashing a guitar or two.