"The Australian"
January 19, 2001
by Deborah Jones"No Barriers For Vocal Militant"
Diamanda Galas travels light - a piano, a microphone, a barely lit
stage and a couple of glamorous frocks are all the diva of darkness
needs. "I have nothing to declare except my genius," said Oscar Wilde,
and galas could well say the same.
The possessor of one of the most striking voices of our time. Galas
goes a step further by being truly original. she is like no other,
which makes the promo line "Diamanda is the Maria Callas of my
generation" somewhat redundant. I suspect that quote is responsible
for the walkouts from Galas's two Sydney recitals. People who didn't
read the fine print (the quote comes from a journal called Mojo
magazine) possibly thought they were going to hear a hot new soprano
in selections from the bel cano repertoire.
Galas is much more interesting than that. She doesn't expand the
boundaries of the existing order but smashes through them with
sophisticated weaponry. It's often remarked upon that Galas has a
voice of unusual range (3 1/2 octaves or so), but that's almost the
least of it. She takes those notes and - well, pick any term you like.
she whispers, screams, ululates, growls, howls, twists, splits, vamps
and much more.
When she's not doing that, Galas can be devastatingly simple,
direct and oh so sweet (triumphantly proving that her voice, despite
what she asks of it, is in superb shape after 20 years of work).
The technique is quite stagering and would be an impressive end in
itself, but Galas is something of a vocal terroristwith more than
entertainment on her mind. she has strong political convictions and
isn't afraid to go to the edge for them - to go to the edge, and then
leap off.
Galas is touring two programs. Defixiones, Will and Testament is a
searing meditation on violent death, ranging across languages and
musical styles. It's described as a song cycle, which isn't exactly
wrong, but it seems such bloodless term for something that, despite
the abscence fo physical action, is closer to music theatre because
Galas's passion is so strong.
On Wednesday the political gave way (mostly) to the personal with
La Serpenta Canta. Here Galas puts her own stamp on soul and blues,
with soome standards getting a rigorous workout. When Galas sings I
Put a Spell on You, you'd better beleive it.
There's some deadpan humour, too. In the funky Dead Cat on the
Line, Galas sings of a lover's new (younger) woman; "She looks more
like me than I do myself." Not likely, which is part of the joke.
There are no jokes, however, in 25 Minutes To Go, in which the
countdown to an excecution is absolutely chilling.
Galas doesn't engage in any stage banter. She simply glides on,
guided to the piano by torchlight from the wings. She sings and plays
for one hour (Galas is a mesmerising and virtuosic pianist), and
leaves. her fervent followers - the goths, the gays, the post-punks,
the trnsvestites, the middle-class and middle-aged, the
twentysomethings - scream for more.
Galas takes her bows with a faint smile, sings a few more songs,
then floats off into the darkness. Magic.
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