As part of her There Will Be No Intermission tour, Amanda ‘F***ing’ Palmer disembarked from her cosmic broomstick for two nights at the Powerhouse. Every time I visit the vibrant venue, bordered by the huge life-force of the river, I’m thankful that Brisbane is home to it.
Goddess bless Amanda. The house lights went out. Clad in a suit, radio mic and her favourite red boots, the multi-talented artist walked through the theatre while strumming her ukulele, singing and chatting to the audience. When she hit the stage, she launched into one of her many versions of a song by Noosa pub-rock legends The Chats. Amanda told the crowd she’d sent the band a message on Instagram, telling them she loved them. They replied with the devil horns.
Save for a 20-minute intermission, the next four hours were a topsy-turvy, emotion-packed rollercoaster ride through the joyful and painful world of Amanda Palmer. At the top of the show, the unconventional artist proposed a democratic method of deciding how the rest of the night would play out. She instructed us all to close our eyes, and vote for either a pre-planned show, or one devised by the crowd, who could call out the songs they wanted to hear.
Those in the DIY camp won. Someone yelled out “Anarchy!”, and we were off.
There were many magical highlights throughout the night’s performance, as Amanda welded the audience’s requests with her own storytelling. She’d ask the room if they had any questions; the level of public openness, honesty and emotional trust that was built between 600 strangers brought tears to my eyes. With huge candour, Amanda spoke about her son, her relationship with author Neil Gaiman, her miscarriages. It was like being with family.
Amanda covered Midnight Oil’s ‘Beds Are Burning’ and ‘Truganini’, respectively, and screamed ‘Smoko!’, hoping she could conjure a Chat from the crowd. There was a staccato version of ‘Coin-Operated Boy’ and a take on ‘A Few of My Favourite Things', with a climate change twist.
Addressing the bushfire crisis, Amanda announced she’d be donating a portion of merch proceeds from the night to a First Nations’ burn-back mob. She also alluded to a future Dresden Dolls tour, after her and Brian Viglione record the outfit’s next release, due this year.
A bit of a history lesson - in 2012, Palmer started an online crowdfunding campaign to fund her autonomous control of her artistic future. In two months, she raised almost a million dollars - not a feat many artists could pull off. You might ask, why her? Simple – she understands the value of ‘being there’, giving of herself to her fans. During her years of touring with Dresden Dolls, she’d stay behind for hours after gigs – signing things, talking to people, giving advice, being a shoulder to cry on, just listening. She’s funded medical operations and university degrees for near-strangers, let people sleep on her hotel-room floor, surprised fans on their birthdays and visited hospitals to grant sick patients their dying wishes.
Over her career, Amanda has built one of the most dedicated fan-bases out. Her longevity, like Bono from U2, can be attributed to her knowing how to connect at the heart level, and mean it.
By the time she’d cleared the backlog of audience requests, it was after midnight at the Powerhouse. A small handful of people had left, and there were a couple of dozers, but for the most part, everyone was rapt til the very end. Amanda returned to the stage one last time for a ukulele rendition of Radiohead’s ‘Creep’, which us all on our feet and singing along. Then, she wandered off for another blind date with the universe.
- Donald Gunn