Nick Cave’s ‘God is in the House’; a slow sardonic number brought the audience in close; leaning in on our seats for a closer look. Nina Simone’s ‘The Devil’s Workshop’ had the whole house tapping our feet and smiling… Tom Waits’ ‘A Good Man’, Jacque Brel’s ‘Song for Old Lovers’… Camille is a performer only recently garnering attention outside of Ireland (though I’m told she’s toured well in Australia before) who, while she sings the songs of others all the way through, makes each of them her own. I saw her for her first London performance a few months ago and have been rather slack in writing about it. But I find myself with time today… so here it is.
I find myself recalling a conversation with the two friends years ago; a bet that we never followed through on. We had just seen the newly reopened Moulin Rouge in Budapest; styled closely on Weimar cabaret. We spoke, through -slurred words, about how the desperate clown, half maddened by the world, is permitted to sing about truths and allude to monolithic terrors that others cannot. Tom Waits, I suppose, is the most successful clown of our time. Camille comes to mind thinking about such things.
Next (another Brel cover) was a like a punch in the gut. I may be remembering this incorrectly as the force of her voice is all I can recall; but I believe it was sung accapello. With each rising verse you could clear see the audience recoiling back into their seats as though struck by a powerful gale. A desperate angry strength in O’Sullivan’s dirge brought home the intent of Brel’s lyrics (see: here); a frustrated tense terror at the damage done to his sexuality and empathy in the whorehouses of the First World War..
The raw emotion in O’Sullivan’s performance was almost tangible. That the performer herself was so involved in the lyrics and the rendition; the audience could not help but be affected. Nervous laughs as she smeared clown makeup across her face; taking generous slugs from a bottle of red as she did so. Creating a hideous jester of herself to bring in ‘The Middle Class’.
A rising anxiety as the criminal is brought to his execution by ‘The Mercy Seat’. Broad smiles and deep wonderful belly laughs at Kirsty Maccoll’s ‘In These Shoes’. ‘Look Mummy’ drew slow tears from many of the people seated as every audience member either recalled sadly on times past or fearfully considered the inevitable events to come later in life. This quiet reflective sorrow later gave way to Marieke; the shrieking angst of which drew tears and scared gasps.
But, of course, we couldn’t be left in such a state; so ‘Jacky’ and ‘Is that all There is?’ gave first wicked smiles and then context for our sorrow. “I’m sorry that I looked like I’ve dragged through a hedge backwards”, her makeup smeared with sweat and streaked with tears. “but living life you should look like that”. I’m paraphrasing; her words were far better.
I think there is some quality in the Irish culture that particularly well-suited to burlesque and cabaret. An unusual blend of kindness and empathy all intermingled somehow with equal quantities of bitterness and irreverence. Camille brings this to the fore and walks a very fine line in almost becoming the cliched dancing leperchaun on stage; but it never happens, not once. She walks that line with the grace, charm, and wit of a superb performer.
It was a great show and I’m really looking forward to her next one.
