After two decades of digging into creative spaces, the orchestra of one-man bands continues to amaze. Because, casually, it has now been 20 years since this musical collective (Play Tom Waits in 2002 and Shattered Cabaret in 2012, among others) was born. Its initial objective, between sound experiments and madness on stage, remains intact.
His latest show, which ties the culinary sphere and American yodelling together, is no exception. If the previous Tomatoes (2018) already sent by its title in this direction of food, he who nevertheless deployed much more a politico-existential fable, the present KitchenChicken rushes for its full part in the greedy register.
Kitchen tables, pots and pans distributed in small stations immediately create a rustic decor where wood is in the spotlight. Behind, a cooking plate will accommodate the ingredients while, on the side, an ironing corner will turn into a guitar board slide wielded with irons; on the opposite side, an aquarium will be a corner for diving or cocktails.
The rustic craftsmanship of this bric-a-brac will house the group’s instruments and the repertoire of the DeZurik Sisters (the Cackle Sisters), a female duo from the 1930s, but also Jimmie Rodgers and the Coon Creek Girls — and some homemade compositions. The tunes of folk guitar, violin or banjo thus exude American rurality, in an inventive and childish explosion whose tone is set at the opening with a number of tap dances on the eponymous chicken, a microphone tenfold the snapping of skin.
The title of the show, here, couldn’t be clearer. Pretexting a meal to cook, the band applied themselves to doing exactly the opposite of what basic etiquette prescribes: not playing with their food. However, the six members do just that, spinning with happy faces their tunes full of complicity and sound tweaks.
play seriously
Beyond the playfulness of this semi-gastronomic dive where pickles fly in a balloon, we could forget the most striking, which is ultimately the impressive way in which the collective dug their initial idea: these microphones approached with a paper of crumpled aluminum or the quivering of the hot plate, certainly, this cream whose regular whipping becomes a musical line, this basin in sheet metal on the ground that a single manipulation will change into a double basin.
The inventiveness also exists in the composition of the scenes: the one where the two singers (Gabrielle Bouthillier and Danya Ortmann) project their voices, between head and chest, in telephones with wheels which add a period invoice – a sepia frying — to their singing while the other members of the group seek to distract them with a playful gesture; the one, too, where a Cheez Whiz painting executed with a spatula will be followed by a projection of herbs and crackers, before serving the public.
Beyond the enumeration, the quality is also found in the complete absence of any filler. It could be tempting, to inhabit the show and flesh out its guideline, to fill in the gaps with less interesting elements. But never does such an impression come to us.
Some proposals will perhaps work less well, especially towards the end, when an accumulation of sounds will erase the finesse of the small finds. Still, the whole amazes, first and foremost the way the collective has exploited its theme, twisting and turning it in all directions.
Recall the critical angle that was given Tomatoes also allows you to measure the vast spectrum of the ODHO… or to better understand what interests it, in fact. Above all, the collective seeks, outside the chosen decor, spaces to express its creative frenzy, which in no way wanes over the years.
Add to that the band’s good humor and cheerful fun, and you have a show that looks like an early Christmas present.