(no subject)
Nov. 11th, 2003 08:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sebastienneevanescence rocked. like a chair. a rocking chair. with a leg missing.
at some points they sounded a little to much like the record . . i guess it was the pre-recorded violin & piano parts which gave it a slightly poppy edge.
nevertheless, they were astounding - amy was insanely sexy (god i love her hair!), and the crowd was so eclectic - i saw people wearing little denim mini-skirts, people in full goth get-up, a guy in a flowery shirt, and a girl in a 40s housewife's dress. this was no army of carbon-copy 'rock' fans. i even saw a granny moshing.
then there was narayani, billy et al.'s devised drama production, a piece on victimisation, with the audience seated on plastic stools, dummies hanging from encroaching black-curtained partitions, a claustrophobic insistence on their close scrutiny of the basest of all human desires - the exercise of power. it which was so powerful that i found myself starting to cry when i was telling my mum about it this morning. i guess it was just nice to feel like i was involved with something so .. different. special. that evoked such interesting responses from its shaken middle-class audience.
but everything else - by which i mean, lessons - seems 'unreal and like a dream'. they just seem so purposeless set against making people feel things. performing. existing.
i was so jealous watching them all affect the audience. people were disgusted, people were moved, people were shocked, people were inspired, but nobody remained untouched.
at some points they sounded a little to much like the record . . i guess it was the pre-recorded violin & piano parts which gave it a slightly poppy edge.
nevertheless, they were astounding - amy was insanely sexy (god i love her hair!), and the crowd was so eclectic - i saw people wearing little denim mini-skirts, people in full goth get-up, a guy in a flowery shirt, and a girl in a 40s housewife's dress. this was no army of carbon-copy 'rock' fans. i even saw a granny moshing.
then there was narayani, billy et al.'s devised drama production, a piece on victimisation, with the audience seated on plastic stools, dummies hanging from encroaching black-curtained partitions, a claustrophobic insistence on their close scrutiny of the basest of all human desires - the exercise of power. it which was so powerful that i found myself starting to cry when i was telling my mum about it this morning. i guess it was just nice to feel like i was involved with something so .. different. special. that evoked such interesting responses from its shaken middle-class audience.
but everything else - by which i mean, lessons - seems 'unreal and like a dream'. they just seem so purposeless set against making people feel things. performing. existing.
i was so jealous watching them all affect the audience. people were disgusted, people were moved, people were shocked, people were inspired, but nobody remained untouched.
