Quirky acts add up to a charming revue
The gutter-poet balladry, feats of acrobatic derring-do, stacked vocal loops, and cracked cabaret singing of Sxip's Hour of Charm might seem to be a crazy-quilt combination. But circus composer Sxip Shirey, it seems, like his quilts rather crazy indeed, and the show he hosts (running with different lineups for the next two weekends at Harvard Square's Zero Arrow Theatre) argued that if it warms the soul, it doesn't particularly matter whether the pieces actually fit.
Two of the acts in Saturday's late show carried with them the threat of genuine danger. Aerialist Una Mimnagh performed routines on a single rope dangling from the ceiling and, later, on a modified lighting rig. Each was the type of display where there wasn't much to do except marvel at the capability of the human body. Until, that is, the calculated and heart-stopping moment when it appeared (but only appeared) as though she was about to come crashing to the ground.
Jonas Woolverton's act existed entirely in that moment. With his Cyr wheel - a large metal hoop inside of which Woolverton braced himself - he spun and rolled around the stage like someone about to be exiled to the Phantom Zone. It must have agitated the front row for five minutes (in fact, Woolverton came so close to careening into the audience on Friday that he shattered some of the footlights), but that only made his success that much more thrilling.
Something of a vocal acrobat himself, Reggie Watts used nothing but his mouth and a pair of on-the-fly samplers to create songs layer by layer (think Prince fronting Massive Attack) when he wasn't getting laughs by mimicking an uncooperative microphone during his quasi-philosophical nattering. Jason Webley lived up to his introduction as a young Tom Waits, singing stomping accordion songs about the end of the world and elephants in a world-weary croak.
It was up to faux-narcissistic torch act Meow Meow to amp up the unpredictability while serving as the comedic highlight. Thriving on applause and unafraid of asking for it, she barely got through two songs in 20 minutes, so busy was she demanding that audience members carry her to the stage and serve as furniture. (She was literally distracted by her own reflection at one point.) Her voice showed every indication of being a powerful instrument of hurt and longing on "Ne Me Quitte Pas," but the song was simply the framework for her act, not the substance.
The Dresden Dolls' Amanda Palmer was more forthcoming in the tunes department, offering manic derangement in Webley's "Icarus" and previewing, in the clear-eyed agony of "The Point of It All," the all-but-guaranteed highlight of whatever album it ends up on. But she fully embraced the spirit of the show, teaming up with Meow Meow's accompanist Lance Horne on a rollicking two-pianist/one-piano version of "Mandy Goes to Med School" and with Meow Meow herself on a hilariously, intentionally disastrous "Missed Me." Palmer closed the show leading the entire lineup in St. Vincent's sweetly heartbreaking "Marry Me," vocalists, instrumentalists, and acrobats all singing together.
