She left behind an attractive corpse…

Musicians can come in two particular flavours.

There are recording artists who perform. And performers who also record. The ability to truly entertain can often be more the domain of the latter, and sometimes sadly lacking in the former. Thank god Amanda (Fucking MacKinnon) Palmer is the consummate performer.

But before I degenerate into an overt ramble on her performance last night at the Governer Hindmarsh in Adelaide, I want to pay particular praise - and raise awareness- to her “opening act”, a key member of her touring troupe, the ubiquitous Zoe Keating. One time member of cello-rock ensemble Rasputina, also ex- of psychadelic instrumentalists Tarentel, and accomplished performer in her own right, Ms Keating set the tone and musically dictated the prelude to the evening’s convivialities.

Zoe Keating and her amazing loop’n'thing’o’strings

Wielding a cello and a bank of sampling/looping pedals, she folds layer upon layer of neo-baroque sentimentality, electro-experimentalist sensibility and improvisational inspiration.  Within 10 minutes of her performance I left temporarily to go back to the merchandise desk to buy her album One Cello X 16: Natoma.  I don’t think I have done that before with any artist.

Pour one absinthe, press play on your multi-media interface of choice, and listen. Seriously.

Back to Ms Palmer, freshly resurrected and back out of hell, following her many little deaths at the hands of Neil Gaiman.

The demonically divine Ms Palmer and her cenobite minions

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Her efforts for the night would be collection of something old, something new, something borrowed, and language blue.

Amanda in full flight

Launching with Astronaut, she would then jump and run in glee between present and past - the swagger of Ampersand, the crescendous Mr’s O, an achingly fatalistic I Want You, But I Don’t Need You (cover of a song by Scottish musical loon, Momus), a playfully chaotic cover of My Favourite Things, a near bacchanal inducing Coin Operated Boy, my my my Delilah (not the Tom Jone’s one - but there’s a suggestion for a cover…), those inbred genetic blues in Runs in the Family, a little spontaneous Tainted Love (much like the on-stage snogs for Coopers Ale she offered on the night),  the psychologically sticky Colombine inspired Strength Through Music- oh, it was a bag of licorice allsorts for the long time fan and new devotee alike.

Fiddler-fingers Lyndon - The Devil Went Down to Georgia, but went via Adelaide….

But mention must be of her supporting band of miscreants in the Danger Ensemble who bring a visual poetry and musical ornamentation to her works, making it more than just a concert, and something just short of complete bedlam.

If you are following Amanda on her blog or frequent Twitters, you’ll see the maniacal edge of her shows are due in no small part of a good dose of touring fatigue.

Chin up love.  You can sleep when you’re dead.

Colombine Capers - Rock & Bowl