On his last London visit, Salty Brine mashed up the Smiths’ album The Queen Is Dead, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, and episodes from his own life into a pretty extraordinary show. But not a unique one – Brine has made 21 such confections as part of his Living Record Collection project, which now brings These Are the Contents of My Head (The Annie Lennox Show) to Soho. If I found this one less remarkable an achievement, the feeling was offset by admiration that Brine’s Smiths show was clearly no fluke; that he’s created a striking and confident collage-cabaret genre all of his own.
Maybe that last one worked so well because Frankenstein described the form as well as the content. The fit is less neat here, as our drag-queen host splices Annie Lennox’s album Diva, a recording of Judy Garland at Carnegie Hall, Kate Chopin’s feminist novel The Awakening and (I’m almost done …) tales from his own mother’s failed marriage. In this telling, both the novel’s heroine and Brine’s mum are women struggling to free themselves from marriage and societal convention. Tripping in and out of song, family anecdote and scenes from Chopin’s southern gothic, with additional characters played by scene-stealing pianist Ben Langhorst, Brine’s gumbo doesn’t stint on rich ingredients.
The results can feel overcooked, the individual flavours hard to distinguish. In a show that trucks exclusively in big emotion, Brine’s mother’s experience (and his own, navigating his parents’ divorce and coming out) is rendered every bit as melodramatic as Edna Pontellier’s. The songs of Lennox and Garland sometimes illuminate those stories, and sometimes don’t. But they’re always delivered with limpid loveliness by our host, or with hella pizzazz should the moment require.
That roof-raising voice of his, not to mention the sexual frankness, as Brine drapes himself over this audience member or that, may not be the perfect match for Chopin’s tale of clipped and frustrated womanhood. But why quibble, when it’s easier to be swept along by the bravura of the enterprise, a lush hymn to dreams of freedom and a feat of idiosyncratic connection-making to put Adam Curtis in the shade.