What Are We Left With? — A review of SUDS’ The Goat, or Who is Sylvia?
SUDS’ Slot 1 performance of Edward Albee’s The Goat, or Who is Sylvia? was an hour-and-forty-minute absurdist romp that left the audience in both stitches and a state of moral panic. The play, brilliantly directed by Felix Tonkin and produced by Ruby Scott-Wishart, documents the aftermath of a father’s bewildering extramarital affair, and serves as a hilarious allegory of liberal society. It is this element that SUDS’ production claws at so well, unravelling the philosophical thread that weaves its way through the narrative.
I went to Joy Orbison and all I got was a great sense of joy, good music, and fun times
Walking past the slightly uncanny midnight pickleball league in a mostly asleep Entertainment Quarter, I wondered if anyone else was aware of the musical significance of what was going to happen inside Liberty Hall. Joy Orbison, the London-born and based DJ and producer, was about to play his first show in Australia. I reached Liberty Hall, pretty set in my conviction that there wasn’t a good chance many pickleball players knew about Joy Orbison. I was pleasantly and incredibly surprised
True Nostalgia: PULP goes to salute
At the bottom line, salute rejected the pretension that seems to dominate much commercial dance music (read: the uninspired spoken word poetry of Fred Again). Eschewing these pseudo-philosophies of house heavy hitters, at the heart of TRUE MAGIC is a magical world of nostalgia, joy, and most of all, good old fun. Not only a testament to the varied influences upon salute’s signature sound, but the many influences that shape our first encounters with dance music.
LIFE IS A LANEWAY? I WANNA RIDE IT ALL DAY-FESTIVAL LONG: PULP'S LANEWAY REVIEW
Laneway 2025 was a refreshing return to normality for Australian music festivals. It featured a balanced and loveable lineup of fan favourites and internet sensations but was let down by its administration and infrastructure. Its artists provided fantastic and memorable performances that resonated but its vibes were either hamstrung by technical difficulties or over-police and surveillance
A Boiler Room with a View
Boiler Room was last weekend’s confused lover, trying its best to be intimate, but couldn’t do the work to make it so (even though you both really wanted it to).
Magritte - Art Gallery of New South Wales
Both eerie and peaceful, the final room is shrouded in a velvety green amongst which his final paintings whisper rumours of Magritte's transformation. At this point, one cannot help but think back to the self-portrait that greeted them, now at odds with the viscerality of The happy donor and Man and the forest.
Isaac Julien's 'Once Again...(Statues Never Die)'
As soon as you enter the space, you find that the dialectic of light and darkness is already at play. Then begins the piano, and notes that echo cavernously, consuming the space. In a haunting, projecting boom, Alice Smith begins vocalizing the words, “once again…”
Mixing RED with black: the death of the art movement is the only given
A tortured artist. A naive assistant. The child always kills the father. Pop art will kill abstract expressionism. It’s the 50s.