Latest news with #TheDarkness
Time Out
27-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Time Out
The funniest things I saw at Sydney Comedy Festival – Plus, the encore shows you can still catch
Sydney's biggest annual comedy event just wrapped for another year, and I want to give a nod to some of the most hilarious, off-the-wall, and delightful shows I managed to catch during Sydney Comedy Festival's huge 20th anniversary year. Plus, hot tip: the laughs aren't over! There is an assortment of encore performances coming up for some of the festival's most popular shows. This includes the winner of the Best of the Fest Award, Dan Rath's Tropical Depression – a razor-sharp offbeat observational show offering Rath's fresh take on a broad range of topics from Uber rides to moving to Korea, chatbots and more. (Tropical Depression is playing an encore at the Comedy Store on Friday, August 8. You can book tickets here.) Highlights of Sydney Comedy Festival 2025 Ruby Teys – Cherry Vinyl: Coober Pedy's Last Show Girl ★★★★★ Ruby Teys' cabaret-esque style is the very definition of prawn cocktail comedy: delicious, decadent, somewhat perplexing, and always existing one minor but dangerous temperature change away from turning your stomach. The ingredients probably shouldn't work together, and yet, she tosses them together with a dash of showgirl chutzpah and mad genius, leaving audiences rolling in regular roars of laughter – satiated, but always hungry for more. Much like a prawn, the body horror also makes it even better (The Substance 's special effects team simply can't compete with what happens to a Gold Coast showgirl after a few too many komodo dragon placenta pills). Also, she appears in a bedazzled prawn costume. What more could you want? Nostalgically and politically irreverent, Coober Pedy's Last Show Girl is a comedy with two buttons undone on the working class. From following the 'dingo proof fence' to the Gold Coast in order to pursue her dream of becoming a glamorous showgirl, Cherry Vinyl's story is a parable for the little Australians, for the underdogs, for the blind blonde mole in all of us. Incorporating animation, pre-recorded footage, costume changes, old fashioned razzle dazzle, the right amount of crude jokes and some top notch physical comedy, Teys delivers a character performance that simply must be inducted into the Australian consciousness. There's even a frank meditation on the intersection of power and gender and body modification, if you should choose to read into it. All in all, a solid six tits out of five. Thalia Joan – Dear Future Memoir ★★★★☆ A talented storyteller with a real knack of unhinged brilliance, Thalia Joan is the kind of comedian who can get a whole room singing along, karaoke-style, to 'I Believe in a Thing Called Love' by British glam-rock-revivalists, The Darkness. And that's exactly what she does in her latest show, Dear Future Memoir. A suitcase-full of stories from her recent fever dream of a trip to the United States – where, spoiler alert, her suitcase never actually joined her – it's a somewhat looser affair than her previous, more tightly scripted shows. (And that may or may not have something to do with the copious amount of cold 'n flu pills she had to snaffle down ahead of her Sydney Comedy Festival run.) But Thalia has the kind of enigmatic presence that thrives in chaos, winning over an audience with witty quips, kooky mannerisms, effervescent energy, and even some amateur keyboard skills. While her therapist may be dismissive about her habit of excusing all of her most self-destructive decisions as 'doing it for the memoir', Thalia proves that she is living out stories that are worth sharing – and in doing so, she encourages us to be bolder, too. (And besides, no man who passes off memeable quotes as billable wisdom can tell us otherwise!) Breaking the Musical ★★★★☆ In the long run, it turns out that the threat of being sued by Rachel Gunn herself was the best publicity that this little-low-budget-show-that-could could've asked for. Sydney-based comedian Stephanie Broadbridge writes and stars in this satisfyingly silly, unauthorised musical satire that is definitely not about a certain Australian hopeful's journey to compete as a break dancer at the 2024 Paris Olympics. Supported by a hardworking ensemble, Broadbridge (as 'Spraygun') strikes the perfect balance in this clever and creative show, painting 'Spraygun' with a relatively sympathetic brush while also holding space for the genuine concerns that certain communities might have about a white woman of a certain demographic representing a dance style pioneered by marginalised communities on the world stage. Breaking the Musical is able to poke fun at the absurdity of certain strains of academia, as well as the absurdity of taking any sort of artform and trying to rank and judge it on a scale, all while exploring what the Australian identity means in today's world (with a 'Nutbush'-esque instructional dance thrown in for good measure). This show is also packed with a delightful grab-bag of musical references for the theatre fanatics to get down with, as well as nods to British pantomime, some genuinely impressive French mime action, and some bedazzled green tracksuits to boot. Playing out over about an hour, Breaking is able to pack in a lot without overstaying its welcome. The ending doesn't tie up neatly, leaving us somewhat baffled and somewhat bemused, but this actually lines up rather well with the real story that may or may not have inspired it. This is comedy theatre that is low-budget, high-stakes, and thoroughly entertaining – something that all Aussies need to see. (Follow @stephbroadbridge on Instagram for updates about Breaking the Musical.) Reuben Kaye – The Party's Over ★★★★☆ Reuben Kaye reaffirms why he is one of the best entertainers Australia has ever accidentally produced with his latest solo show, The Party's Over. In a show that re-treads some of his greatest hits and sprinkles in some updated social commentary and personal anecdotes, Reuben is able to keep everyone on the edge of their seats with his bitingly intelligent and shamelessly raunchy antics as he struts across the Enmore Theatre stage (and playfully taunts unsuspecting folks in the audience). As fans might be aware, the last time Reuben was at this venue, his show had been considerably postponed after threats were made by far-right 'Christian activists' over a certain Jesus joke on a certain primetime television appearance went down famously well. That 2023 performance was a triumph, and this one in 2025 is a total home run. The best part of a Reuben Kaye show is not just how much he'll make you laugh (and that's a lot), but how he'll leave you feeling energised, and ready to fight back against conservative bores.
Metro
25-05-2025
- General
- Metro
I never cried after my near-death crash - then I found a box
I briefly woke up from a coma in the ICU and heard two nurses discussing something about the World Trade Centre and a plane. Then everything went hazy and I passed out again. When I finally woke up, I was told I was at Central Middlesex Hospital and I'd missed one of the biggest moments in recent history – because I almost died. Nine days earlier, on September 2, 2001, I'd put on the first ever gig by British rock band The Darkness at the club night I used to run in Kings Cross. I'd organised it as I knew their guitarist Dan Hawkins – I was simply putting my mate's new band on as a favour. I was driving home to Staines in my 1968 Morris Minor when, at 4:44am, my mate James and I were hit head-on at 99mph by teen joyriders being chased by police. I was in a coma for two weeks. Luckily for us, not only were the police already there, there was a fire station nearby and we were cut out of the car in four minutes. I was told by doctors that if they hadn't been so quick, we would have died. We were literally bleeding to death in a car that resembled a crushed bean can. We were rushed to hospital and both put on life support. We had broken almost every bone and both had serious head injuries. Initially, they thought they might have to amputate my right arm and right leg, but luckily I got to keep both. It's a miracle we survived. In fact, my wife Helen was told to prepare for the worst – but James and I pulled through. We were both in hospital for six months and I had more than 80 hours of operations. The first to save my leg took eight hours. Even The Darkness came in and visited me in hospital but I can't remember it – I wish I could, but I've got huge amounts of amnesia both before and after the crash. I do have a vivid memory of screaming in pain during my first physio though. I don't get any flashbacks. My brain saved me from PTSD by immediately erasing the crash, my rescue, and being in the ICU. My wife and brother went through it, not me. They still have nightmares to this day. I was out of action for a year and was lucky not just to have support from family and friends, but The Musicians' Union too. I was signed to Sony as a solo artist at the time, having created and written the songs for Sophie Ellis-Bextor's band theaudience in 1996. As I was incapable of playing any instruments, I couldn't earn a living and the Musician's Union gave me essential financial support, since it took years for compensation from the accident to come through. But my career took a new turn. Once my injuries had healed enough, a friend of mine, BBC Radio London's Gary Crowley, invited me to go onto his show to talk about the latest music releases. I'd done stuff like that before as a guest on shows and I really enjoyed it. Gary said I was a natural and encouraged me to do a post-grad degree in Broadcast Journalism, which I did in 2004 at the University of Westminster. After that, I got a job producing music programmes at the station. I'm now the station's travel presenter and Brentford FC commentator and I love my job. But I remain a musician at heart. So it was serendipitous that during a clear-out in the Covid lockdowns, my family found The Box – a gruesome keepsake of the night of the crash, containing photos, police statements, and court reports – and asked if I'd like to see it. It was the first time I cried over the whole event. I've still not seen the photos of my beautiful car, crumpled to nothing, and I don't want to – everything else inside the box was bad enough. But among the paperwork, there were two blood-splattered mini-discs that had been in the car. One wouldn't play, but the other was full of demo songs with me singing. I had no idea where I'd recorded or what they were about, bar vaguely being about love and capitalism. Then last year, my old friend Nigel Butler, who's now a top record producer, agreed to work on them. I was chuffed since he's worked with everyone, from One Direction to Aerosmith. He isolated my vocals and turned it into a solo album called 'When Lord God Almighty Reads The News', which is out on green vinyl on June 6, the day before my 60th birthday. I'm in esteemed company. Scottish indie label Last Night From Glasgow, who just released an LP by Peter Capaldi, are putting it out. So far, the singles have had lots of play on BBC 6 Music but it's strange to hear yourself, from the past, singing songs you don't remember writing. People are often filling in the gaps for me before and after the crash, as I don't remember much of 2001 at all. More Trending After all, memory is a shared experience and songwriting is a precious part of that – these songs are almost a time capsule from that year. But I'm so proud of this record. It's proof good things can come out of the worst situations and that you've got to cherish life. View More » These songs and I both survived that crash – I know I'm lucky to be alive. So I absolutely cherish every moment. Do you have a story you'd like to share? Get in touch by emailing Share your views in the comments below. MORE: I've been prevented from divorcing my abusive estranged husband for 20 years MORE: My cousin sent a text that devastated me – I wish he'd called MORE: This Japanese walking trend can make you live longer — it's a shame it's so annoying
Sydney Morning Herald
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
He's an alcoholic with several degenerative conditions. And he will make you dance and cry
Jim E. Brown's gone AWOL, nowhere to be found. 'Damn it, Jim,' his beleaguered tour promoter, Andy Burns, on hand to connect our Zoom interview, says after several unsuccessful attempts to track Brown down on his phone. 'I mean, this is very on-brand,' he adds with a resigned laugh. Look, it wasn't unexpected. As his songs – anthems such as I'm An Obese Alcoholic, I'm Naked in My Room Huffing Nitrous Balloons, and I Know I'm Going to Die of a Stroke – suggest, Jim E. Brown is battling demons. As his Bandcamp bio helpfully explains, 'Jim E. Brown is an alcoholic and has several degenerative conditions.' The same time a day later, Brown's found. He's backstage at a venue in Milwaukee, about 30 minutes from a headline slot, with an Old Fashioned in one hand and a Miller High Life in the other. 'There's also an entire refrigerator filled with beers, which I'll show you right now because you're a journalist and you need to see these things,' he says, swinging his laptop across the room to reveal a hefty stash. 'I'll need all of it before the end of the night.' Dressed in a mustard turtleneck and a grey blazer, he looks as dejected as he does on the cover of his 2021 debut, Jim E. Brown Sings His Songs. 'I'm so sorry about yesterday,' says Brown. 'I'm just deeply suspicious of the news media and I feared you were going to slander me. But Andy convinced me that it would be good to do this interview.' Burns first brought Brown to Australia last year, when the pair toured the country together for three weeks. 'My memory is a bit shoddy from alcohol abuse, but I remember the incessant squawking of the birds in Katoomba, which was very disturbing to me. I didn't really like that,' says Brown. Beyond a 'pie floater' he had in Adelaide, he didn't like much about Australia. 'I can't say I really like Australian people, they're a bit weird,' he says. 'But people all over the world are weird and I don't really like anyone, so it was alright.' If, by this point, this all sounds like some sort of Kaufman-ian shtick, that's because it is. Jim E. Brown comes from the same grand tradition as Mojo Nixon, Weird Al Yankovic, The Darkness or Jimothy Lacoste, musical acts who straddle the line between silly joke and sonic transcendence. According to his own lore, Brown was born and raised in East Didsbury in Manchester, the day before 9/11. It should be noted, there's a lot of Brown lore: three volumes of his autobiography Brown On Brown, and three subsequent memoirs (Holiday with Mrs. Higgins, Shattered, and Brittany's Burden, which tells the story of his relationship with a sober woman he met on Loosid, the sober dating app). 'And I'm working on my new book, which is as yet untitled,' adds Brown. 'It's a memoir about the time I spent living in the cage in Greg's basement.' What does that mean? 'Some bloke called Greg locked me in a cage in his basement and I wrote a book about it,' he says. Music was an unexpected career for Brown. 'As an alcoholic with several degenerative conditions and as an obese person who eats excessively, I'd been using alcohol and food to ease the pain in my life for so long, and I still do that,' he says. 'But then I discovered that music and poetry and the written word could also ease some of the pain, provide a bit of catharsis, so I started doing music for that reason.' Brown was 19 when he started releasing music. How old is he now? '19,' says Brown. 'Still 19?' I ask. 'Yes,' says Brown, stifling a chuckle with his hand. It's one of the few times I'll get a peek at the ridiculously dedicated man behind the act. In the internet age, mystery seems impossible, but whoever's behind Jim E. Brown is committed. Reddit seems to agree he's some guy from Philadelphia, a 40-something ex-animation filmmaker named Max Margulies. 'People have said that to me at shows, but I don't understand it,' says Brown. 'It's a bit weird. I don't go up to people saying, 'I heard you're from this place that you said you're not.' I take it at face value what people say. 'The mistrust galls me,' he adds. 'But it's alright, because they'll usually buy some merch, give me money, and then they say I heard you're actually this or that, and I say, 'Oh right, I don't know', and I move on. And then I take the money to the pub and I get pissed.' How does Brown account for the fact that, in the real world, Margulies is credited as the sole composer and writer on all his songs? 'I don't know who that is. I've not heard of him,' he says. 'I don't handle the publishing or anything like that, so I don't know the names. Also, you really can't trust what you read on the internet, you know?' Who am I to poke any further at the facade? Especially when the music is this good, songs that make you wanna dance, cry and possibly even get a medical check-up (see My Urine is Foamy, Do I Have Kidney Damage?). As a born and bred Mancunian (falsely, but still), Brown's sound understandably draws from Manchester's post-punk and baggy tradition. Drum machines and synths shimmer like a crap New Order. He wails like the Fall's Mark E. Smith, if Smith was a shame-ridden depressive. He rhapsodises like John Cooper Clarke, if Clarke was raised on YouTube brain rot. 'Never heard of them,' says Brown. 'People ask me about that all the time. They say, do you like Mark E. Mark or whatever his name is or the Smiths, and then I get confused, like which Smith is it? I've not listened to any of that music. My favourite artists are Coldplay, Kraftwerk and Phish. I'm also quite keen on Owl City. You know that song, Fireflies?' Loading It was Brown's album Shame – released last Christmas, and featuring the singalong I'm Quitting Prozac to Continue Drinking – that became an unlikely online breakout. Last year, Burns toured the US with Brown, where he noticed a sort of 'Jim E. mania' taking hold. 'People were stopping him in the streets,' he says. 'He just hit the luck of the algorithm.' Brown – or is that Margulies? – can't believe his music allows him to tour the globe. 'I mean, if I were to listen to something, the very last thing would be a Jim E. Brown album, that's 100 per cent sure,' he says. 'So I'm surprised, because it's all a bit shit to me.'
The Age
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Age
He's an alcoholic with several degenerative conditions. And he will make you dance and cry
Jim E. Brown's gone AWOL, nowhere to be found. 'Damn it, Jim,' his beleaguered tour promoter, Andy Burns, on hand to connect our Zoom interview, says after several unsuccessful attempts to track Brown down on his phone. 'I mean, this is very on-brand,' he adds with a resigned laugh. Look, it wasn't unexpected. As his songs – anthems such as I'm An Obese Alcoholic, I'm Naked in My Room Huffing Nitrous Balloons, and I Know I'm Going to Die of a Stroke – suggest, Jim E. Brown is battling demons. As his Bandcamp bio helpfully explains, 'Jim E. Brown is an alcoholic and has several degenerative conditions.' The same time a day later, Brown's found. He's backstage at a venue in Milwaukee, about 30 minutes from a headline slot, with an Old Fashioned in one hand and a Miller High Life in the other. 'There's also an entire refrigerator filled with beers, which I'll show you right now because you're a journalist and you need to see these things,' he says, swinging his laptop across the room to reveal a hefty stash. 'I'll need all of it before the end of the night.' Dressed in a mustard turtleneck and a grey blazer, he looks as dejected as he does on the cover of his 2021 debut, Jim E. Brown Sings His Songs. 'I'm so sorry about yesterday,' says Brown. 'I'm just deeply suspicious of the news media and I feared you were going to slander me. But Andy convinced me that it would be good to do this interview.' Burns first brought Brown to Australia last year, when the pair toured the country together for three weeks. 'My memory is a bit shoddy from alcohol abuse, but I remember the incessant squawking of the birds in Katoomba, which was very disturbing to me. I didn't really like that,' says Brown. Beyond a 'pie floater' he had in Adelaide, he didn't like much about Australia. 'I can't say I really like Australian people, they're a bit weird,' he says. 'But people all over the world are weird and I don't really like anyone, so it was alright.' If, by this point, this all sounds like some sort of Kaufman-ian shtick, that's because it is. Jim E. Brown comes from the same grand tradition as Mojo Nixon, Weird Al Yankovic, The Darkness or Jimothy Lacoste, musical acts who straddle the line between silly joke and sonic transcendence. According to his own lore, Brown was born and raised in East Didsbury in Manchester, the day before 9/11. It should be noted, there's a lot of Brown lore: three volumes of his autobiography Brown On Brown, and three subsequent memoirs (Holiday with Mrs. Higgins, Shattered, and Brittany's Burden, which tells the story of his relationship with a sober woman he met on Loosid, the sober dating app). 'And I'm working on my new book, which is as yet untitled,' adds Brown. 'It's a memoir about the time I spent living in the cage in Greg's basement.' What does that mean? 'Some bloke called Greg locked me in a cage in his basement and I wrote a book about it,' he says. Music was an unexpected career for Brown. 'As an alcoholic with several degenerative conditions and as an obese person who eats excessively, I'd been using alcohol and food to ease the pain in my life for so long, and I still do that,' he says. 'But then I discovered that music and poetry and the written word could also ease some of the pain, provide a bit of catharsis, so I started doing music for that reason.' Brown was 19 when he started releasing music. How old is he now? '19,' says Brown. 'Still 19?' I ask. 'Yes,' says Brown, stifling a chuckle with his hand. It's one of the few times I'll get a peek at the ridiculously dedicated man behind the act. In the internet age, mystery seems impossible, but whoever's behind Jim E. Brown is committed. Reddit seems to agree he's some guy from Philadelphia, a 40-something ex-animation filmmaker named Max Margulies. 'People have said that to me at shows, but I don't understand it,' says Brown. 'It's a bit weird. I don't go up to people saying, 'I heard you're from this place that you said you're not.' I take it at face value what people say. 'The mistrust galls me,' he adds. 'But it's alright, because they'll usually buy some merch, give me money, and then they say I heard you're actually this or that, and I say, 'Oh right, I don't know', and I move on. And then I take the money to the pub and I get pissed.' How does Brown account for the fact that, in the real world, Margulies is credited as the sole composer and writer on all his songs? 'I don't know who that is. I've not heard of him,' he says. 'I don't handle the publishing or anything like that, so I don't know the names. Also, you really can't trust what you read on the internet, you know?' Who am I to poke any further at the facade? Especially when the music is this good, songs that make you wanna dance, cry and possibly even get a medical check-up (see My Urine is Foamy, Do I Have Kidney Damage?). As a born and bred Mancunian (falsely, but still), Brown's sound understandably draws from Manchester's post-punk and baggy tradition. Drum machines and synths shimmer like a crap New Order. He wails like the Fall's Mark E. Smith, if Smith was a shame-ridden depressive. He rhapsodises like John Cooper Clarke, if Clarke was raised on YouTube brain rot. 'Never heard of them,' says Brown. 'People ask me about that all the time. They say, do you like Mark E. Mark or whatever his name is or the Smiths, and then I get confused, like which Smith is it? I've not listened to any of that music. My favourite artists are Coldplay, Kraftwerk and Phish. I'm also quite keen on Owl City. You know that song, Fireflies?' Loading It was Brown's album Shame – released last Christmas, and featuring the singalong I'm Quitting Prozac to Continue Drinking – that became an unlikely online breakout. Last year, Burns toured the US with Brown, where he noticed a sort of 'Jim E. mania' taking hold. 'People were stopping him in the streets,' he says. 'He just hit the luck of the algorithm.' Brown – or is that Margulies? – can't believe his music allows him to tour the globe. 'I mean, if I were to listen to something, the very last thing would be a Jim E. Brown album, that's 100 per cent sure,' he says. 'So I'm surprised, because it's all a bit shit to me.'
BBC News
11-05-2025
- Entertainment
- BBC News
New beach music festival booked for former Cornwall Coliseum site
Two new beach festivals have been announced in Cornwall on the site of a former popular music said the events would see "big name artists" perform on Crinnis beach for the first time since the heyday of Cornwall Coliseum, which closed in 2003, hosted the likes of The Clash, The Who and Tina Turner during the 1970s and said the line-up for the festivals, called the Tunes on The Shore and Tunes at The Coliseum, included Sam Ryder and The Darkness. 'Real buzz' Jeremy Kneebone, manager at Shoreside, said the venue "was stoked to be collaborating with Tunes Festival"."We've got a great community down here at Shoreside, and there's a real buzz about bringing some big-name music back to the beach - especially given the history of the former Cornwall Coliseum," he said."Both weekends are set to offer something special, and we can't wait to welcome everyone."Tunes on The Shore was scheduled to take place between May 23 and 25 at Shoreside in Carlyon Bay and would feature "Cornwall's first ever country beach festival", said at The Coliseum will run on 25 and 26 July "at the home of the former Cornwall Coliseum", they site was demolished in 2015 after lying dormant for a number of years.
