Lillias White

Lillias White - From Brooklyn to Broadway
By Emmett Spencer
Courtesy of www.cabaretconfessional.squarespace.com

18th June

Festival Theatre Stage

Singing up a storm and strutting her stuff, a multi-award winning singer and actress Lillias White showed the audience what cabaret is all about on the Festival Theatre stage. She not only smashes down the fourth wall, but also goes a step further and communicates to the entire room as though she invited everyone to a party at her place while she dishes up enticing stories. Bursting with energy and rhythm, White follows her life through songs that tell those tales.

She has a flair for comedy and jokes around with the crowd, trying her hand at Australian accent and vernacular. Her rich, clear and multi-layered voice glides over and between notes, as she makes the songs her own by pouring emotion and experience into them. Together with smooth dance moves and a slick three-piece band, it's a winning combination.

“Fairy Tales” and “When You Think of Me” delve into the dark abyss of love gone wrong as she tells the audience of her failed marriages. Then it’s back to Brooklyn where she spent her childhood with Harry Belafonte’s comical “Mama Look a Booboo”, a song she gets the audience to sing along.

The latter part of the show focuses on White’s accomplished career with the medley of songs from musicals such as “Barnum”, “Dreamgirls”, “Once on This Island” and “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying”, which are all greeted with thunderous applauses and cheers.

It takes more than competent musicians to keep up with a performer of her calibre, and the band - Andrew Massey (drums), Lyndon Gray (bass) - led by Matthew Carey (piano) do a phenomenal job and are in complete sync with White. Their riveting improvisation is a delightful bonus.

White takes the show to new heights when she sings the enthralling rendition of “The Oldest Profession” from Cy Coleman’s musical “The Life”. White recreates her alter ego Sonja, a veteran prostitute who’s seen better days. The transformation is spine-tingling as are the acting and the vocal abilities she displays – it’s not hard to see why she won the Tony, Drama Desk, and Outer Critics Circle Awards for the role that was created especially for her.

The last number is a torch song “The Way He Makes Me Feel” by Michel Legrand/Alan and Marilyn Bergman. She dedicates it to “all the lovers in the house”, ending the show on a hopeful and positive note. Lillias White is a woman of numerous talents, but where she truly mesmerises and sparkles is the stage.

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For those that missed out on Lillias White’s sold out show “From Brooklyn to Broadway at the Adelaide Cabaret Festival, there’s still a chance to catch it over on the Eastern seaboard. Accompanied by a superb three-piece band, she’ll be performing her show “My Guy Cy”, a tribute to the music of Cy Coleman at the Opera House in Sydney. If you can make it, it’s well worth the trip…and then some.

“Lillias White is a singer who makes the most challenging vocal feats look almost easy.” - The New York Times

“This big, bold and beautiful actor-singer is a natural performer who was obviously born to be on stage. And boy can she sing!” – The Independent Weekly

Sydney

Date: 2 – 4 July

Venue: Playhouse, Sydney Opera House

To book tickets, phone Sydney Opera House on 02 9250 7777 or click here.

The White Masai Rant

I apologise for the irregular updates due to various laptop/internet issues that I won't bore you with. I think the poltergeist is still remaining at large.

I've just finished a book called The White Masai. In many ways, this book is extraordinary, as it shed light on traditional African culture and the way of life there, which I didn't know much about. But I couldn't help finding the book somewhat grating from the word go. The author came across as someone truly annoying and that feeling lasted right till the end of the book.

It's a memoir of Corinne Hoffman, a Swiss woman who fell in love with a traditional African Samburu warrior Lketinga while holidaying in Kenya with her boyfriend (who became an ex on the flight home), and her journey of moving to the primitive African village and the life she lead there. And without knowing anything about him or having a common language (they'd barely spoken when they'd met), she follows Lketinga with feverish passion and determination. Her actions can also be interpreted as a trifle unhinged, stalker-ish or over-the-top. I'd describe it as an extreme case of tunnel vision.

To some, it is a hopelessly romantic story - a white woman relinquishing most of the mod-cons of the Western society in the name of love. Some also said it is a remarkable story of survival.

To me, it's neither. I see the story as a horrifyingly tale of a naive, self-centred white woman, who imposed herself and her Western culture on Lketinga and his Samburu community, displayed cultural insensitivity, and fled home to Switzerland when the going got tough.

Yes, she did experience it all - she ate like the locals (lots of unseasoned goat meat...yum yum), was offered goat blood, slept in a cow dung hut swarming with mosquitos without electricity and running water. She faced several life-threatening situations. But I had trouble feeling any sympathy for her. It was entirely her choice and decision to put herself there. She bitches and moans about the local custom and the cultural clash, but what did she expect? When you move to a new country, particularly at your own will, it would help enormously if you embrace the way of life at your chosen location, especially when it is a traditional African village. It would also be an advantage if you bother to do some research about the country you are moving to. Even though this was before the internet age, surely there were books, articles and videos available to her.

She basically showed a lot of disrespect to the African traditions that people there are very proud of and refused to conform. Considering that people in Samburu accepted her warmly and gave her support despite her often bewildering behaviour, I couldn't help but think that Corinne was ungrateful. Her whole damsel in distress attitude got very tired very quickly.

I concede that her perseverance is astonishing. But generally, she got what she thought she wanted at everyone's expense and at the end, went back to the comfort of the Western world.

I wonder what Lketinga and the rest of the Samburu people would have to say about Corinne and the effect she had on their community. It is a fascinating book, but it still left a bitter taste in my mouth. Rant over.

The Pumpkins Return

One of the best-known alternative bands of the 90's, The Smashing Pumpkins have reunited and are touring Australia.

When I first heard the news that the band is going to grace our shores again, albeit with a new line-up, my mind got flooded by memories of my youth. As many of you'd know, I was a HUGE fan back in the days. A very dedicated and a slightly disturbed fan at that.

I went to all their gigs, bought the limited edition singles and albums, wore the T-shirts, had the posters up in my room and listened to their CDs ( 'Siamese Dream' in particular) all day and night. When they toured, I lined up at 9am in the morning to secure the coveted front row position in the scorching heat/freezing cold to see my heros - Billy Corgan, James Iha, D'arcy and Jimmy Chamberlin - on stage. I went crazy in the mosh pit and crowd surfed. I knew every word to every song of theirs. I was obsessed.

Looking back, I have absolutely no idea where all that intense energy and devotion came from. I was such a pain-in-the-butt, brooding teenager. I adored that band with all my heart while believing that the world hates me. Something about their songs full of pain, angst and anguish struck a chord. I took solace in their music.

But after about 2 years, the adulation started to wear off. My attention span isn't great at best of times anyway, and plus I stopped being so stroppy and moved on.

My friends who witnessed that startling obsession more than a decade ago have asked me if I'll go and see them to experience it all again. I did contemplate on it. It would be great to hear "Today" live again. But I decided to give it a miss. The last time I saw them, they played ALL the songs I love. I was right at the front, singing with the crowd, and really feeling the music. I'd rather keep that glorious memory intact. And besides, I doubt I can conjure up even one hundredth of that passion and enthusiasm that made the show so incredible.

I've been listening to Siamese Dream while I write this, and I realise that the album has not aged at all (and I still know all the words). I'm surprised that it still plays, after having been on repeat for about 10 billion times. Thank god CDs are durable.

It's nice to still be able to enjoy the music that appealed to me at a different stage of my life.
I wonder how I'd feel about it in 10 years time. I will keep you all posted :-)

It's Fringe Time

(I'm squeezing this blog entry in on the last day of February, making the most of Leap Year! )

One of my favourite festivals of all time, Adelaide Fringe Festival has kicked off, and I've had a brilliant start.

The first show I went to see was called "Made in Australia". It featured songs that were either written or performed by Australians. It was different, original and a lot of fun.

A mix of well-chosen songs that represented many faces of very special country that is Australia, were performed by two enormously talented musicians, Catherine Campbell (singer) and Matthew Carey (piano).

Early in the set was a very comical and hilarious song about The Big Banana in Coffs Harbour. Australia's penchant for Big Things is amusing (and sometimes unfathomable) to the rest of the world, but we can't help ourselves. They are so quintessentially Australian. I wish I could remember all the lyrics.

A very clever and satirical "Dwayne's Song" by Eddie Perfect made me laugh out loud while it poked fun at racism. After the tender rendition of Paul Kelly's "From Little Things Big Things Grow" was performed, we heard this particular song, which the dark and brooding Nick Cave has described as having "one of pop music's most violent and distressing love lyrics" . I won't spoil the fun for those that will go and see the show, but l'll just say that it's one of Kylie Minogue's classic hits.

I couldn't agree with his quote more. I've never understood why the original version is so upbeat, when it's actually a thoroughly disturbing song about a person who is pleading his/her lover to stay, despite having been repeatedly mistreated by that same lover. It's basically an anthem for low self-esteem. So to have the song's deceptively happy facade stripped away, then to hear it with the dark, ominous and depressing core all exposed like that, was incredibly satisfying for me. This song and the arrangement alone were worth the ticket price.

It was one of those shows that you come out smiling, filled with warm and fuzzy feeling inside. I'll be going to see four more Fringe shows, and I do hope they'll all be as good as this one.

And if you get the chance, please go see it. Highly recommended.
All the Adelaide Fringe info, including this show's details, can be found here.

Poltergeist: The Unfriendly Ghost

Strange things have been happening at my humble abode in the last few months. Strange noises, phone conversations getting interrupted by sound that's similar to sand storm, light bulbs exploding (both inside and outside), toilet backing up with rust, and lastly, a parcel vanishing from the front porch, then somehow finding itself again at the delivery centre.

While I believe that paranormal events that logic nor science cannot explain do occur, things have been pretty peaceful in general that I hadn't really spent much thought on it. But these series of events have made me wonder if I have a stray poltergeist hanging out at my place.

When the outside light bulb blew up, I didn't think anything of it. But when the bathroom bulb exploded, it was so loud and it happened with so much force that I was glad I wasn't standing inside the room. I'd have been hit with shards of glass.

Having watched more than enough horror movies in my youth, and as someone with sometimes excessively vivid imagination, when the light brownish rust, reeking of metal backed up and stained my toilet (it was happening gradually, then it went out of control), I was half expecting the water to turn into blood. Or a pale hand to emerge from the toilet bowl. But things didn't get that dramatic. Still, a plumber was promptly organised.

But the freakiest thing of all was my parcel which I was expecting. It didn't arrive on the day it was supposed to, so I had to spend yesterday chasing it up. On their record, it said that it was delivered, and the item had been scanned. And my neighbour saw it on my porch at aound 9am. I didn't hear the door bell, and when I left the house to go for a walk a few hours later, the parcel wasn't there. When I insisted that I absolutely don't have the parcel, they did some serious search and located it at another centre miles from here. The item somehow made its way back to that place, and it had been re-scanned back at the delivery centre. They can't explain how the parcel got there from my place after having been delivered once. Unless the delivery guy played a prank for no reason (which he swears he didn't, and his delivery log proves it), it makes no sense.

I'm not the slightest bit scared by all this, but it sure is annoying and inconvenient.

If you're reading this, Ms/Mr Ghost, you've had your fun. You can go now.

Baby Boom

As I get older, more friends of mine are either seriously considering having children or have already embraced parenthood. And the prospect of having nieces and nephews is getting more realistic every day. Yes, it's a baby boom in my corner of the world.

I adore my friends' children and I'm more than certain that I'll dote on my nieces and nephews too, when I have them. BUT the idea of having a baby myself does not appeal to me one iota.

I can't remember ever wanting children. When I was younger, people used to tell me that I'll get clucky when everyone around me starts having children. Well, people around me ARE having kids, and they are incredibly cute, yet, I can't even feel the tiniest stir. Occasionally, I stop and ponder to see if I have accidentally overlooked my inner urge to procreate. I might check again right now. Let's see....nup. Nothing. It's just the way I'm wired.

Then I located my missing maternal instinct. It had migrated all the way to Little Rock, Arkansas in The US. The Duggar Family (pictured) consists of staggering 17 (yes, that's right, SEVENTEEN) biological children, all from the same parents, including two sets of twins. And astonishingly, the couple Jim Bob and Michelle want more. The scene from The Meaning of Life where they sing "Every Sperm is Sacred" did come to mind as I read their story in utter fascination.

If that's not my worst nightmare, I don't know what is. But hey, if the Duggars are happy, then that's all that matters. Having said that, I'm really curious to know what the children think of their situation, particularly since the older kids are assigned to look after their younger siblings and are basically responsible for raising them.

In any case, I'm grateful to this family, because from now on, every time when someone asks me why I'm not going to have kids, I can just say "Well, the Duggars in the States are having them for me".

"Tidy Up Challenge" Pt1

I've had many visitors over Christmas and New Year, which meant my place was in a reasonable shape for a while. But now that they've all come and gone, it has deteriorated to a pigsty even the messiest pigs wouldn't want to be around.

It took two measly days before things went downhill. As I glance at my place, which looks like it's been robbed 10 times over, I realise it's officially gone way beyond the denial stage. The time has come to stop procrastinating and face the music.

As most of you know, I'm not a naturally neat person and in my teenage years, my bedroom looked like someone had randomly tipped out the contents of my desk and wardrobe, then spread them around. Much to my irritated parents' dismay, I had argued that it was organised chaos, and having that training of living in constant mess has paid off - even now, when things get pretty bad in my own place, I can fish out my wallet, mobile phone and house keys in midst of piles of clothes/books/junk in seconds.

While I don't let the situation get THAT dire these days, I'm struggling to understand why do I have so much trouble keeping the place clean and not have the pigsty phase at all. The concept sounds ridiculously simple - just put everything back to its place after I've used it. In theory, it should be like brushing my teeth, having a shower, putting on sunscreen and reading newspapers, which I do on a daily basis. I don't have to TRY and do those things and yet, I sometimes can't be bothered doing something so easy as putting my book back in the shelf after I've read it or hanging the jacket back in the closet. What's with that?

Then slowly (and more often, very quickly) those displaced items accumulate and form a mess. A BIG mess. Like right now. Last night, I took refuge in the spare room which is still free from clutter invasion. It's not a calming place to be, and not that I know much about it, it's probably bad feng shui as well.

I definitely don't enjoy living in a sloppily kept house. While I don't subscribe to "cleanliness is next to godliness" school of thought, I still wouldn't mind having enough discipline and organisational skills to have a clean home where I don't ever need to worry about having to spend another day frantically tidying up the place, after being completely fed-up with no one to blame but myself.

I did some research on google, looking for answers, but I haven't found anything particularly useful yet. It's full of information on how to clean, but not so much on how to train oneself to prevent the mess itself. I've asked one of my friends, who has an exceptionally clean place as to how she does it. She says it's just the way it is. She's never had to even think about it. That actually makes sense. Many people who don't find reading books easy but wanted to start, have come to me and asking for tips, but I was stuck for an answer. I've simply always loved reading and have never had to try. And I don't actually know anyone who has conquered untidiness.

I just have to acknowledge this as a bad habit, make a conscious decision to be tidy and turn it into a good habit. It will take considerable effort, but it's worth a shot. I've been told that if you continuously do something for a month, it's meant to stick, so I will start from today and see what happens. Kicking the procrastination habit is next on the list, but I have to do one thing at a time.

Wish me luck - I'll need it.