[2015049] Calypso Nights

[2015049] Calypso Nights

Theatre Beating @ Tuxedo Cat – Perske Pavilion

11:00pm, Thu 19 Feb 2015

I’ve been a big fan of Theatre Beating since the amazing Constantinople in 2012 (which was then followed by Squidboy and … him), so Calypso Nights was shortlisted on the company name alone. Which meant, of course, that once again I walked into a venue with little idea of what to expect.

A disappointingly small audience filed in to the Perske to be confronted by Barnie Duncan’s alter-ego for the evening, Venezuelan Calypso DJ Juan Vesuvius. Vesuvius was spinning records as we entered, performing the worst cuts between songs imaginable… stop/start, awkward gaps, massive BPM swings, mistimed cutovers. It was mesmerisingly bad DJing, and bloody hilarious to watch him appear ever-so-pleased with himself upon every failure success.

When Vesuvius starts speaking to us, it’s in thickly accented Spanish; after a minute or so, he visibly recognises our confusion, and is startled to learn that we’re an English-speaking audience, prompting a re-start of the show. And then we’re into the “content” of the show: an aural exploration of calypso music and rhythms. He plays examples of Soca (“It mean… cunnilingus,” Vesuvius explained), and helpfully contrasted it to a bad German-language pop record (“…and this is German linguist.”).

Throughout, the music is a glorious mix of smooth latin grooves, afro-beat, and cheesey classics, all mixed together in Vesuvius’ inimitable style… and his comments, whether on love or war or the music itself, were brilliantly twisted and surreal: bedding a lover or calming the North Korean warmongering were equivalent problems in Juan’s eyes, and his explanation of the Mexican flag adorning his DJ desk was hilarious.

As usual, I – the only person brave enough to sit in the front row – got roped into being Vesuvius’ stagehand for the evening. Initially involved in a hilariously protracted attempt to light & hold up a candle (during which Vesuvius never broke eye contact, his eyes full of fear and panic… and lust), I eventually got dragged up onstage to help perform a romance scene (with the aid of some terrible record covers) and play maracas (and I’m a bloke: rhythm is not my strong suit). The devolution of the performance into a dance party denouement just felt perfect.

Calypso Nights became my number one recommendation of the Fringe: I thought it was absolutely brilliant fun, and could think of nothing more enjoyable that seeing this with a group of friends and a couple of beers. Here’s hoping that Barnie/Juan return for the 2016 Fringe, because I can think of a heap of new friends that would love to experience this madness.

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