Comedy news: Frisky and Mannish School of Pop Tour blog: PVC party at the Sydney Opera House

By Frisky and Mannish, Sydney, Feb 22, 2010

Greetings! So, basically, we’re on the other side of the world. We arrived on Saturday to ridiculous amounts of UV and heat, and bodyclocks seemingly set to ‘random shuffle’. Which, coming from the snow, ice and cabaret dens of London, wasn’t so much of a shock to the system as an assault upon our poor, underexposed skin. Even factor 50 barely keeps off the freckles and sunburn. Bad times.

But we’re here, safe and finally readjusted, and the reason we are here is to do a show. Our show. The show we did in Edinburgh this year – Frisky and Mannish’s School of Pop. The Edinburgh run was quite the rollercoaster for us, from the highs of the great reviews and packed houses, to the lows of swine-flu and cancellations.

But one of the many glorious upshots of the whole shebang was being picked up by Christian Knowles of CKP to tour our show round the UK and Singapore, and festivals such as New Zealand International Arts Festival and Melbourne Comedy Festival. Oh, and also the Sydney Opera House. Which is where we are right this very moment.

We’ve had quite a few “pinch yourself” moments since we got here: not least making our way to the Opera House, as so many tourists do, to look at the amazing building itself, only to find OUR POSTER IN THE FOYER! We hadn’t even seen the artwork at that point, and nearly fell over. The following day we had some press to do (darling), which included a photoshoot on the iconic steps up to the Op House.

Looking back through arty shots of yourself trying to look ‘fierce’ and smizing desperately (if that makes no sense to you, you need to watch more America’s Next Top Model) with the big white fins jutting out behind your ears, is quite the moment. As is the bemused faces of retired couples from all corners of the world, watching a PVC-corset-and-legging-clad neo-cabaret duo melting in the midday sun.

But to the business of the show! Now, we aren’t the retiring kind, who would ask for nothing more than a microphone and a follow-stop. Oh no. We have approximately 250 lighting cues in our hour-long show.

That’s a lot. And unfortunately we weren’t able to bring our lighting designer with us (one day… and next time with the masseuse, assistant, and milliner to boot). So the team and the ol’ Oppy-Hizzle were quietly crapping themselves and simultaneously trying to work out which cues we wouldn’t notice the lack of… But after a long long day of teching, we finally set out to do our first preview…

At this point I should also explain, to those who know nothing of our work, what it is that we do. We take pop songs, and do all manner of things to them – from mashing and medleying, to reworking and resizing. But all towards the principal aim of revealing how the song works, and what is going on behind the funky beats and earnest belting.

We are also from England, born and raised, and so our frames of reference are predominantly from the cultural experience of our country in the late 80s, mid-90s through to the 00s.

We’re in Australia. Yes, it is English-speaking, and yes, we do share much in the way of tasteless pop and American-invasion. But there are distinct differences. This is a rock-loving nation. The big news of the last couple of days has been the AC/DC tour.

The people like meat and beer and cricket. But luckily, there are gays. And it would also seem that almost everyone between the ages of 23-40 in Sydney have spent at least a year in London. So there’s even hope for our reworking of Girls Aloud…

So we were more than a little nervous about putting our work in front of the Aussies (even with a few tailor-made references – i.e. ‘Dancing With The Stars’ rather than Strictly, boyband Human Nature, rather than All Saints). But thank the heavens we had an audience like a well-crisped, gamey old bird – warm, forgiving and well up for anything.

We came off hyped as all hell, and immediately cracked open the fizz. But as the bubbles played about our excitable insides, we were realising that our concessions to the Oz audience had not only broken the flow of the show, but hadn’t been all that appreciated. We were pleasantly surprised that all the musical numbers seemed to hit the target, but we needed to go back to the drawing board with the skits.

So the following day was a day of rewrites, and trying, after going through version after version, to actually work out which combination of lines would go into the show, and even just a matter of hours before the show adding in a whole new ridiculous dance piece involving a flip flop and some booty-shaking.

In fact, it was during the rehearsal of said booty-shaking that we endured one of the more humbling moments in our time here. The stage was lit for the afternoon as they ran through cues, but we were still in civvies just working out moves and staging.

We couldn’t really be heard, just seen like rabbits in headlights. The style of the new dance was very much in the spirit of early-00s rap videos: so, a ho working some ass, while insouciant rapper flails arms with an air of “I’m gon’ tap that”, or similar.

As we were working through this, deciding between the booty-pop or the ass-shimmy, we became aware of some rather refined but hushed speaking. And as we looked up into the dim balcony spotted a gaggle of aforementioned retired couples in slacks looking on in absolute horror, with a tour guide with her back to us, clearly oblivious to the fact she had brought her entire tour group into our rehearsal.

I’m fairly certain they didn’t expect to see a white-haired, slender boy making like Fiddy, with a red-haired harlot shaking her junk and/or goodies up in his grill, while on a tour of the Sydney Opera House.

The pert cries of “Well, really!” and “I mean, I support the arts, but I really don’t think this is appropriate…” as they left, filled us with a strange mix of giggling embarrassment and sincere pride that we were the sole purveyors of the bump-and-grind within such a bastion of culture and the arts.

With just moments to go before the official Press Night, Frisky stole Mannish’s sunglasses for her Lady Gaga, and we were set to go.

And it went. We don’t know yet what the press made of it, but they all stayed for drinks and snacks after the show, and one or two tried to pick us up, so we’re hopeful it went well. We had an absolute BALL, and are in fact still recovering as we write.

The audience cheered long and loud, and there were definitely some Brits in to keep the night moving.

God bless the United Kingdom, and all who leave to come to sunnier climes, but also God bless those wonderful fun-loving Aussies who showed no fear in the face of glitter and pop.

Want to know more about Frisky and Mannish? We bet you do, so check out their website: www.friskyandmannish.co.uk