Scenes Not Clones

Two further abiding tidbits from the Victorian Boxing Event.

One is discussing with Diva Hollywood where this whole New Cabaret and New Burlesque scene sprang from, given there was nothing like it in the 1990s. After grunge, there were all those 60s Mod clubs and Britpop bands. Oh, and Romos. Then Radiohead put out ‘OK Computer’ in 1997, giving birth to Coldplay, and suddenly art had to mean dressing down and moaning about it with choirboy reverb. Which is why I love the reformed Take That records – Gary Barlow and chums taking the listenable bits of Coldplay but adding costume changes and Vegas dance routines.

One theory is the release of the movie Moulin Rouge earlier in the decade. It may not have been everyone’s cup of tea (or rather, hollow cane of absinthe), but it certainly had a reaching out effect. They say that everyone who saw the Sex Pistols on tour in 1976 went home and started a punk band. Likewise, I like to think those who were knocked out by all those eye-popping sequences with Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman came away and devised acts or turns of their own.

I love the notion of ‘pass it on’ art. Inspiring people to join in, not to follow a fashion, but to use a genre or format to bring out something of themselves. That’s what a ‘scene’ should always mean.

After the boxing show, I meet the escapologist in the backstage area, and am impressed that his Victorian moustache is real. He tells me how escapology has always been a viciously competitive field, with acts forever suspicious of their rivals in case they steal their ideas, or even sabotage their props. He imparts a shocking rumour that Houdini once put acid in the tank of a lady escapologist.

I say it’s a shame performers in a niche field can’t be more supportive of each other. That escapologists should unite, as they have nothing to lose but their chains.

(Except of course, I only think of this after I’ve gone home).


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