Oct 232012
 

Yesterday was the first time in far too long that I went to the theatre. It was also utterly convincing that I should go more often – what an utterly brilliant way to reintroduce myself to “cultcha”.

Having been introduced to Fascinating Aïda some six months ago or so, I was naturally already enamoured of them. If you’re not yet au fait, I highly recommend you familiarise yourself with them. Nonetheless, I had never seen them live.

Led by the utterly magnificent Dillie Keane, whose near 30 years at the helm don’t show at all, drives the troupe and the audience as one with a force and exuberance which belie her age, and shows how very “down with the kids” she actually is, throughout the 2 hours or so of the performance. Given her age, oeuvre and style, it is perhaps an unavoidable comparison, but her style is highly reminiscent of Victoria Wood. A woman of a certain age, sitting at a piano, singing satirically? Yeah, that’s Victoria Wood. Add in a wonderfully broad, rich vocabulary and a wonderful assumption that her audience will follow and understand what’s being said (rather than dumbing down and speaking to the lowest common denominator, as is so often the case) and the comparison becomes more cemented.

Yet, this is *not* Victoria Wood, rather a completely different experience. Dillie Keane is utterly and unapologetically Dillie Keane, and nobody else could be her. Her linguistic and pianistic dexterity are of an ilk with the marvellous Tim Minchin, and the subtle world-weariness and cynicism are completely in keeping with his work; however, whereas Minchin has a definite agenda, and message to impart (which is not in an wise a bad thing!), Keane is more sardonically observing and commenting, pointing out the insanity and hilarity of existence, touching briefly on its pointlessness though never sinking to depressiveness. Further to this, the content is updated and added to regularly, with portions of the “Bulgarian Folk Songs” last night referring to both the Lance Armstrong fiasco and George Osborne’s encounter with the proles on the train! Wonderful!

Adèle Anderson, the second longest serving (is it a sentence?) member of the group, adds a wonderful counterpoint to Keane’s slightly more polished persona and performance; vocally not the strongest performer, there is yet something wonderfully engaging about the gravelly, harsher aspects to her singing.

The “rotating” member of the troupe, currently Liza (with a ‘zee’) Pulman, complements the two older ladies, with both a youthful exuberance and a truly wondrous soprano voice; were she to star on the stages of the West End, she would seem not one jot out of place. As with Keane, Pulman’s upper class voice, decorous deportment, and slight priggishness (presumably accentuated for the purposes of the persona) contrast deliciously with the sheer filth of the humour of many of the songs (I’m thinking of YOU, Dogging!) adding to the almost guilty-secret of laughing at some of the content.

Were the show to consist solely of satire, that alone would be a joy; yet two of the songs were not at all satirical, rather absolutely touching and moving songs. “Goodbye Old Friends” had genuine tears in my eyes, and I think you’d be hard pressed to find a more genuine song anywhere.

The group will be touring again next year, for their 30th anniversary, and if you can’t see them before, see them then. Utter joy!

 

Autographed CD cover

 

Jan 292011
 

We first tried The Meadow Restaurant for a Sunday brunch almost two years ago, and it’s remained one of our favourites ever since.

Stylish, in terms of decor and of food, but never putting style over substance. The breakfast/brunch menu was originally quite small, but has subsequently expanded, without compromising any of the pluses which first excited us! My favourite – in any breakfast setting – is a modified Eggs Benedict; sometimes, the modification can lead to problems, whether with the serving staff taking it down correctly, or with the kitchen implementing it properly. At the Meadow, this has never been an issue. Not just that, but the meals have always been wonderfully flavourful, delicately balanced, tasty and – above all – enjoyable.

The ethos of the restaurant is one of local, seasonal food, but without the sanctimony often found accompanying such approaches. The ingredients are of a consistently high standard, the service impeccable, and the ambience relaxed and stylish.

Highly recommended!

Jul 132010
 

Part One …

There are a great many places in Brighton and Hove to eat, that are fabulous, serve excellent food, great service, good value … but where’s the fun in that? So, this is the first in – hopefully – a series of reviews of the terrible, disastrous, cock-ups!

Piccolo Restaurant

We were wandering around, looking for somewhere for a quick lunch, and came across Piccolo’s Restaurant, which seemed like a great deal – a little cheaper than the place next door, good selection of pizzas, in we went. I wish the write-up on their site were true; “The premier Italian restaurant in the heart of Brighton town centre, Piccolo is one of Brighton´s best-kept secrets.”

Perhaps the second part IS in fact true … if it weren’t a secret, it would surely have gone out of business by now!

I ordered a four cheese pizza; Wouter ordered a vegetarian. We ordered a half bottle of wine between us. The wine came, was opened, poured and the (inattentive) waiter buggered off again, without any chance for us to try it; probably intentionally, since the wine – while not corked – was only slightly better than a nice malt vinegar. Yum.

However, we were still optimistically waiting for our pizzas. What a shame …

The pizzas were about 25% smaller in diameter than every other Italian restaurant I’ve ever visited … so, a false economy there already. Still, perhaps the taste would prove worth it.

Oh dear …

The bases were, essentially, dry biscuits! The tomato sauce … was red, but, flavourless. Thin, watery, bland and tasteless.

And my four cheeses … two were visible, one was mozzarella and the other was … PROCESSED CHEESE! Truly awful. Wouter suffered through a bland, tasteless concoction of mushy vegetables, crappy sauce and pointless “cheese”.

Bottom line; don’t go.