While the carnival atmosphere is intoxicating during the protracted daylight of Sydney’s summer months, there is something haunting about a carnival at night.
Long after the Friday night crowds have dispersed and the vendors have closed down their stalls, a crowd of people mill around the entrance of the Circus Ronaldo Tent. Festival Village is oddly silent one minute away from midnight, save for the people forming an orderly line in the drizzling rain, waiting to hear Cat Power play.
There is a palpable sense of anticipation – as well as a degree of self-satisfaction in a crowd that is pleased with itself for securing one of the sought-after tickets to her performance. The dripping umbrellas and the muddy grass underfoot only amplifies the sense that these are truly dedicated – and deserving – fans.
However, there is a faint shudder of anxiety moving through some sectors of the crowd. Chan Marshall – the woman behind the stage name Cat Power – has an unsettling history of unpredictable performances. She has been known to experience wrenching anxiety during shows. She has been known to slouch on stage, to hide behind whatever is nearest to her. Some of those present have been burned by her demons before.
Then again, it is telling that Cat Power fans are willing to brave a rainy night at the tail end of the Sydney Festival to stand outside a circus tent in spite of the potential for disappointment. Perhaps the crowd is united by optimism – or, perhaps there is a resignation to the fact that her siren’s voice will keep her dedicated followers coming back for more, no matter how often her anxiety cripples her.
Circus Ronaldo Tent is a uniquely intimate setting for the performance. There is a small, upright piano squeezed into the cramped tent, which is festooned with lights angled directly upon the stage. In a space like this, there is nowhere for Marshall to hide.
Yet during tonight’s performance she does not seem to want to hide. She appears as moody and fragile as ever – clutching her electric guitar like a raft – but her voice reaches those pure, suspended notes with ease. She may not be entirely comfortable, but the power of her music has always been her ability to ruminate on her own raw nerves. The small performance space merely accentuates the intimacy of her revealing lyrics and her ethereal, affecting voice.
If she is searching for validation, it is present in full force in the audience’s reaction to her performance.
An emotionally exhausted but elated crowd disperses into the rain, surprised to find that the witching hour has passed and that it is Saturday already.
