The very first thing that I notice as I settle myself in a darkened room of Project Arts Centre is that there is a very new baby sleeping in their mother’s arms right in front of me. Classical music is playing softly and everyone looks very shy. The atmosphere feels as though a book club is about to begin. The second thing I notice is SexyTadgh walking onto the stage wearing a bikini, heeled boots and a leather trench coat. He plays a few notes on the piano and starts to sing seductively. This isn’t going to be a book club, I realise.
“SexyTadgh has such a talent for making strangers feel comfortable and connected – and also a bit cheeky!”
Over the next hour, it was the crowd I was watching. How they went from stressed and slightly nerdy to free-spirited maniacs, screaming at SexyTadgh and their band for more, chanting “not the bore worms” over and over again at the top of their lungs. SexyTadgh has such a talent for making strangers feel comfortable and connected – and also a bit cheeky!
“It’s hard not to fall in love with their show, and their range is frankly frightening”
It’s hard not to fall in love with their show, and their range is frankly frightening. From playing the fiddle fluently to singing as Gaeilge, to a puppet show all the way to outer space, the show is erratic and random, presumably to mimic the feeling of flicking through channels on a television. For this reason, the show, for all its modernity, feels kind of nostalgic. I can’t remember the last time I actually watched television. As I’m sure most readers can relate, I almost exclusively stream films and series these days. But the spontaneity of the show reminded me of the unpredictability of television – not knowing what was coming next and not having a choice over what you wanted to watch; it was almost freeing. But of course, as the show rightly points out, there is a darker side to this as well. Throughout the performance, there are several music numbers that discuss the propaganda fed to the Irish people through television.
Undoubtedly, the best part of the show was when the current program stopped for the Angelus and “sexy mass” began. SexyTadgh puts on some spangled vestments and calls the altar boys (also known as their band members) up one by one in a croaky voice. They whisper inappropriate things in these young(ish) boys’ ears as they hand them the mic for the readings. While we were laughing at this creepy priest impression, we were also reminded of how lucky we are to be in such an inclusive space where we’re allowed to laugh at the church, especially since Ireland is still an unforgiving place for queer people. The audience stood to sing Hallelujah at the top of our voices, and beneath the cynical hilarity, I was oddly touched by this communal, hopeful singing. But then, of course, the moment ends and we’re back to watching The Real Housewives of Carlow.
The music was fantastic and SexyTadgh was incredible, though the show was perhaps a little too disjointed at times, so that some of the more important themes felt rather lost. Overall, I had a great time. As SexyTadgh walked off the stage, they blew the baby a little kiss and the baby giggled. At that moment, I felt hopeful about the future of theatre.
