The God That Comes goes off
I cannot tell how much I have feared this moment.
For this is the moment when I have to try to describe something that is, frankly – and deliciously, indescribable.
Hawksley Workman is a Canadian performer and his show is a wild, lusty swing at the the forces of conservatism.
He is a dazzling virtuoso and compelling stage presence and his show is what you’d get if you crossed Reg Livermore with Paul Capsis with… maybe Prince?
That’s sort of it.
Workman can sure create the six-string pyrotechnics, but then he’s a terrific drummer and pretty handy at the piano and synth. Oh, and he plays the recorder.
And there’s a harmonica bit that is spellbinding.
The God That Comes is a rare thing for a Tasmanian theatre audience: it made them fall silent. Except for the moments when they were laughing hysterically. Oh, and calling out ‘tits’.
This is a stunning 75 minutes that starts with a heavily percussive number that reminded me of The Doors’s ‘The End’ and climaxed with a crashing, multi-layered soundscape and then a song about… well, you’ll find out: you sure as hell won’t want to leave this show early.
Workman has just one show left of his three dates as part of the festival – Playhouse Hobart on Saturday night (which is a perfect venue). Don’t miss it. The God That Comes is rock that’s rude and raucous and tender and funny and memorable.
And very difficult to describe.