Purr-fectly good: Meow Meow
Silly little me: beforehand I’d reckoned that Meow Meow was a prime figure in the renaissance of cabaret that’s purportedly taking grip at the Fringe this year.
Little did I realise, until seeing this show, that the singer is so beguilingly divine that to narrowly bracket her within any single genre is a hideous insult. No, Meow Meow straddles any such meagre classifications gleefully and absolutely commandingly. What – or even who – she is is entirely at her own disposal, and we should only be grateful that we have a chance to see her this month while she so skilfully revels in her element.
Not least since the classically trained chanteuse had been promised her very own Broadway run, before the financial crisis took hold. (Well, if you believe her version of events anyway.) Instead she’s “now playing in a tent on a swamp”, jokingly dismissing the wonderful Spiegeltent venue that is now hers for the month, though if nothing else at least her loss is our glorious gain.
For this is the most uproarious fun and blissful spectacle that anyone is likely to encounter at the Fringe, even though the artist involved has been reduced to surviving on a pittance – so much so that the producers have hired her striking dress only for the opening number, leaving her to strip to a slip when it’s demanded back with supremely awkward timeliness.
With many cunning and calculated twists and turns it’d feel rude to give too much away about the distinctly postmodern performance, which extends far beyond a a few show-stopping numbers interspersed with a bit of between-song banter. Instead Meow Meow functions as a marvellously outré character most reminiscent of Patsy from Absolutely Fabulous, someone who manages to make her OTT attention-grabbing desperation absolutely endearing, while remaining so superbly talented you can’t help but will her along on her journey.
After a definitive rendition of Brechtian punk cabaret act The Dresden Dolls’ subversive and supremely teasing Missed Me, Meow Meow is before long barking in German (apparently it’s more effective) as she gets audience members to operate the smoke machine, act as chairs, stroke her comfortably, or basically do anything that may help add to the show in lieu of an actual budget. While the skills of her impromptu assistants may leave something to be desired, hers most certainly do not, as she cajoles and then bends them to her will.
This performance purposely stripped of excessive glitz and glamour, Meow Meow turns the traditional nature of cabaret on its head, breaching the limits as she makes the audience take centre stage. Her own numbers are performed, plus she tackles numbers by the likes of Fiona Apple. Something of a parody of the demanding diva, her rendition is so sympathetic that you somehow find yourself willing her on to success, while simultaneously completely captivated by her presence.
To detail too much of Feline Intimate would be to simply spoil the show, which would be hugely unfortunate given how fantastically, joyously fun it all is. If you dare decide not see this, you do so at your own peril, and I can only pity you. (In lieu of Meow Meow’s own barked order, don’t say I didn’t warn you.)
Meow Meow is performing at Assembly at Princes Street Gardens at 8pm from August 5-29 (not 9, 16 or 23).
