Kabakunst (after Catherine Love)

In The Creative Martyr’s bleak re-centering of cabaret, the duo are

sinking from the start. Before the show properly begins, they mournful sing their perennial lament against consumer profiling, The List. And when they do enter the main stage, they're already defeated, unsure of either where they are, or why they are here. Sing or mime as they might, they are trapped in the same world as Beckett's existential protagonists.

There’s a brutal familiarity to Kabakunst. For a start, many of the songs are Martyr Classics. Kabakunst, created in collaboration with the Acquisecent Orchestra, Tom Harlow, Kim Khaos, John Celestus, Spangled Shadow, Bert Finkle and Markee de Saw, Calum MacAskill, Rufus and Ben, Tuesday McPhail, Drew Peacock, and Heather MacIntyre, trades heavily on its audience’s knowledge of previous Martyrs' shows. From the moment they introduce themselves, we’re anticipating cheerful tunes about death, drunkenness and destruction. More than that, though, familiarity is built into the very structure of Kabakunst. It moves, slowly, deliberately and relentlessly, towards its inevitable conclusion.

As the title suggests, the entire action (or inaction) of the piece is confined to the world of cabaret. The events of the outside world, represented by a video feed of political speeches on a backdrop, all occur around this peripheral point. Most of the time, though, we watch the distracting routine of musical showstoppers. They get the crowd up for a stomping march. They demand the burning of dangerous books, and have the audience help them build a literary pyre. Tom Harlow embodies the sexual seductiveness of money. Memories of youthful idealism are revived, celebrated and abandoned.  


This is choreographed resistance. Failed revolution distilled. Each routine, each jump forwards in time, is signalled with an interlude as the Martyrs grapple for meaning. Through it all, The Acquisecent Orchestra stare out with a chilling indifference, providing both musical depth to the songs and adding to the sense that the pair are trapped in a prison, in which observation is punishment. They seems to be obeying a regime enforced by the two silent henchmen who lurk around the margins of the stage. When the Martyrs chat or mime resistance or mockery of these sentinels, they are simultaneously trying to make themselves as invisible and inaudible as possible in this rigidly deterministic world.

The Martyrs might be the centre of the narrative, then, but they pointedly do not have the only voice within it. Unlike their earlier shows, they have other artists who dominate certain routines. And when Tom Harlow sings and dances, his glamour and choreography takes centre stage. “I'm money,” he smoothly croons before stripping and hiding behind whirling fans of feather. While The Martyrs may be robbed of their singular control of the narrative, the flavour and themes are clearly their own. Indeed, many of their routines are remixed versions of familiar tunes that speaks deafeningly of the controlling world in which they dwell. 

But can Kabakunst really be thought of as a post-modern re-framing of Wiemar Cabaret? It certainly reveals what The Martyrs see as the horrific undercurrent of cabaret, including its most rebellious manifestation, exposing the careless apathy of a genre which is enshrined at the heart of the resistance to fascism and with which we are so often asked to sympathise. Yet still it restricts the performers to idealistic displays of helpless misery, giving them no more agency than characters in a scripted tragedy. The whole narrative of the show, meanwhile, is structured around the failure of the revolutionary ambitions to become activism. The presence of the two henchmen is the scaffolding holding the characters in place, their shadowy presence dominating from offstage with their comings and goings and gestured demands.

Cabaret itself is imagined by The Martyrs and co as a brooding,

moody narcissist, clad in black and wrapped up in his own worries. Musical numbers that begun in pleasure (naughty books, having a cheeky drink, getting personalised service from corporations), progress from celebration to domineering and explicit statements of control to mindless acceptance, are all ultimately about cabaret itself– its desire, its pain. On one of the few occasions when we actually see striptease, Tom Harlow bursts onstage brandishing a pair of fans. He then goes on to play and dance to the soundtrack of his own suffering, wilfully ignorant of the rest of the cast.

Wildly thrashing his fake wings, Tom Harlow's character invites an immediate comparison with David Bowie, a man tragically obsessed with identity and determined to inhabit his own myth,

even to the extent of losing his sense of self. But every act of self-celebration has its accidental victims, its civilian casualties, of which cabaret is one. This is boylesquer as careless egotist, focused on his own meandering path to satisfaction at the expense of all others around him. While he dances, lost in indulging his own emotions, The Martyrs provide a melancholic accompaniment, reduced to supporting actors in their own drama.

This is one of a series of characteristically stunning theatrical moments that break up the simple line of the narrative. Just as the movement from jollity to despair contained in the overall arc and individual numbers becomes predictable, I find myself dragged back by a brilliant routine or by a sudden, surprising display of skill, as in Khaos' dance on broken glass. As ever with The Martyr's work, there is an familiar use of crescendo that can be disengaging, but as soon as one of those moments interjects I’m brought back on board, that knot in my stomach tightening again.

Immediately after the show, someone tweeted that Kabakunst is “about the creativemartyrsie thing you can imagine”. I know what he means: the horrible beauty, the compelling satire, the pin-point precision, the intellectual rigour, the underlying queasiness, even the extended introductions that underscore their political convictions . While watching, I was reminded in particular of two other Martyr pieces: the fringe production of Tales from a Cabaret– the early optimism, the mounting unease, the strange combination of jollity and nauseous paranoia – and the haunting performance of Funny Trap at the Rio Cafe.

The latter was The Martyr's first take on cabaret as a metaphor for state control, whose madness was seen through the lenses of various twentieth century theatre practitioners: Constantin Stanislavski, Antonin Artaud, Bertolt Brecht, Jerzy Grotowski and Peter Brook . Here, The Martyrs adds her own mature style, and it is utterly uncompromising in its eclecticism and self-referentiality. I struggle with it in the moment of watching, but I am also completely convinced that this oscillation between detachment and uneasiness is exactly what I’m supposed to be feeling. This is a cabaret that The Martyrs are determined not to prettify or over-dramatise.



As in Funny Trap, the climax of Kabakunst offers an echo of Soviet style state observation, but with a bloody twist. In the Martyrs' version, resistance is not beautiful or romantic or even straightforwardly tragic; it is tedious and enervating, usually foiled by alcohol or self-importance. No wonder it’s usually kept offstage.

Kabakunst @ Govanhill Baths

Although Wiemar Cabaret appears to be the most appropriate comparison for the Creative Martyrs (there's a clue in the title of the show), their productions have an increasingly post-modern edge that suggests a more contemporary influence. The re-purposing of familiar Martyr's tunes (War Whore becomes a marching exercise for the audience) and the juxtaposition of diverse cabaret styles (Tom Harlow's sensuous singing boylesque next to unaccompanied chants that evoke Gregorian chant) reveals a dramaturgy that revels in bricolage which, to paraphrase the Wu Tang Clan, brews a new stew with some old stock.

Kabakunst, rather like 36 Chambers, has an expanded cast, and flips between artists to keep the flow rolling. Two beautiful boylesque acts - both playing with the totems of gender identity - contrast against the gruffness of The Martyrs. Boylesque glamour becomes seedier by association, and the Martyr's romantic revolutionary riffs are lent sensuality and languor. Taking on Govanhill Baths, with its post-industrial aura of decay, The Martyrs both acknowledge the modern fashion for finding idiosyncratic spaces for performance, and evoke nostalgia for a past, when public utilities were actually funded by the state. 

Over the past decade, the Martyrs have worked hard to develop their own universe. The familiarity of some of their numbers (Funny Trap, War Whore) make Kabakunst simultaneously a greatest hits round-up and a new show. The themes - state control, the failure of revolutionary energy and the dangers of hedonism (this time, it's alcoholism) - resurface and their distinctive style of seduction, followed by deconstruction, is almost comfortably provocative. The introductory number sets the tone. The List begins by offering privileges to those selected, before becoming a nightmare of control and aggression.

KABAKUNST Dramaturgy: The Creative Martyrs @ Southside Fringe

KABAKUNST

presented by The CREATIVE MARTYRS as part of TheSouthside Fringe

Collaborative Kabarett with The Creative Martyrs, the itinerant musicians known as The Acquiescent Orchestra and the sublime performance talents of Calum MacAskill, Tom Harlow, Kim Khaos and John Celestus.

Plucked from the streets the audience have been detained in Govanhill Baths Temporary Administration Centre. They wait...  Amid the audience are a number of performers. A captive audience? Performers? Time? Well, it would be remiss not to take the opportunity for a little sing-song, a dance and some Kabarett!

Warmongering, surveillance and censorship: classic Creative Martyrs’ songs are given a whole new treatment with The Acquiescent Orchestra. Kabarett performance, dance, burlesque, sideshow and song are interwoven with The Martyrs narrative to create a unique theatrical experience.

With KABAKUNST The Martyrs turn their back on their usual intimate cabaret to work collaboratively in a large scale, site responsive Kabarett. KABAKUNST was first performed at the Hidden Doors Festival in Edinburgh in 2015 and has now been adapted to inhabit the atmospheric main pool space at Govanhill Baths.

“When The Martyrs sing of the joys of war profiteering, they are at once threatening and jolly.” The Skinny

Regular performers in Glasgow and Edinburgh and at The Edinburgh Festival Fringe since 2008 and nominated for the Time Out & Soho Theatre (TO&ST) Award for Cabaret in 2012, The Creative Martyrs present their unique brand of satirical Kabarett in both short guest sets and full theatrical pieces (Tales from a Cabaret, An Hour Long Sinister Wink, After the Apocalypse, Cabapocalypsaret, and their interactive children's show, FEZ!).  The Martyrs can be found playing in bars, clubs, theatres, yurts, festivals… and now swimming pools.

LISTING INFORMATION

Venue: Govanhill Baths, 99 Calder Street, Glasgow

Time: 9:30pm (90mins - no interval)

Dates: Thu 19^th & Fr 20^th May 2016

Tickets: £10

Box Office: southsidefringe.org.uk/events/kabakunst

What was the inspiration for this performance?

This performance, as with all of our work, is a combination of many different inspirations, as stock characters (characters? The Martyrs are real, we tell you...) the process is continuous, the inspiration and influences are conceptual, thematic, aesthetic and wide ranging. 

We have long wished to do a large-scale cabaret piece involving

other cabaret performers: other musicians and cabaret characters, burlesque dancers and side-show performers, and to place the show in a narrative context. (Our original plan was to perform the show in The Arches... ) 

Last year we fulfilled this wish when we performed KABAKUNST in Edinburgh at the Hidden Doors festival in a derelict industrial building. The space allowed us to create an atmosphere in which the audience were people surreptitiously attending a show by performers no longer allowed to play in normal venues, a secret place where people could temporarily escape oppression and laugh at those in power.

This year's show is a development from that performance. Also, we were inspired by the chance to perform in Govanhill Baths, an iconic building and another non-theatre 'found' space.



How did you go about gathering the team for it, especially the young comedian?

Over the years of performing in Cabaret nights and events we have established close relationships with our fellow cabaret artistes - the Cabaratti if you will - particularly in Glasgow where The Creative Martyrs currently reside. Hidden Doors festival in Edinburgh last year gave us the opportunity to devise and perform KABAKUNST and we asked various performers if they would like to be involved, thus the cast was formed. 

As for the young Comedian, we do not know him and wish he would leave us alone. 


How did you become interested in making performance?

The Creative Martyrs have been performing since 1883. We found ourselves on a stage - perhaps we were pushed on, perhaps we strided on purposefully, maybe we mistook it for a bar...
Since then we have been interested in making performance -  in order to sing songs, tell tales, satirise and reflect.  

We have been inspired by many of the cabaret acts we have met over the years and continue to hone our own act.

Was your process typical of the way that you make a performance?

We create shows through a combination of writing, devising, improvisation and material generated during live performing, so in this way KABAKUNST was typical, but in an other sense not, because of the involvement and input of the other performers.

We have written the show and directed people to do certain things at certain times but also the other performers were free to interpret aspects of the production according to their perspective - musicians have come up with their own accompaniment to the songs; the dancers have created their own routines and the film-makers their own material in response to our music, concepts and ideas.

What do you hope that the audience will experience?

An immersive cabaret experience - the feeling of actually being in the situation we present - of the baths being a temporary detention centre in an increasingly oppressive society but then finding themselves entertained by cabaret artistes who happen to be present...

What strategies did you consider towards shaping this audience experience?

From the moment the audience arrive they are made to feel they have been detained - various administrative duties are performed. The fact the audience will be in a disused swimming pool adds to this atmosphere. The audience also will not be seated in the usual way - adding to a discombobulating experience.

And we the performers will be interacting with and among the audience. And in time satirising the very situation we have theatrically created.

Do you see your work within any particular tradition?

We are particularly inspired by 1930s Weimar Republic cabaret but continue to develop our own take on cabaret, our own... schtick.

Are there any other questions that might help me to understand the meaning of dramaturgy for you in your work?

We are very interested in performing in and responding to different spaces - whether theatres, bars, fields, water-less swimming pools or abandoned warehouses - and shaping our performances and shows according to the particular space, and particular audience. 

We do not believe for example an abandoned warehouse should be then turned into a theatre - rather we prefer to perform in the space as it is (with some lights and technical aspects to enhance the show but in sympathy with the space).  


Thank you, and good night, for now...

Gustav and Jakob
The Creative Martyrs