It begins with a tick. Then a tock. Faster than a working clock, more like a hyped up metronome. Or maybe more like the beat of a heart falling in love – fast, rushed, on adrenaline.
OCD Love starts with a hushed, ticking percussion as Rebecca Hytting performs a solo dance of angular limbs and arched backs. She is singular yet uncertain, a fitting beginning for a piece that leans into the obsessive and compulsive.
Continue reading The dark despair of “OCD Love”
It is 2007 on a Thursday night, and I am at the old Phuture on Zion Road. “Smack that, all on the floor,” Akon’s hit single Smack That is booming from the club speakers. “Smack that, give me some more,” the song continues. The club is brimming with barely legal teenagers. Couples are gyrating on the crowded dance floor; some of the girls’ bodycon dresses are riding up and the boys pump their fists in the air. I feel self-conscious as I am sandwiched between two tall figures. Even so, I find myself dancing; the air is heavy but the beat is thick.
It is 2017 on a Saturday night, and I am late for Checkpoint Theatre’s Thick Beats for Good Girls.
Continue reading “Thick Beats for Good Girls” keeps it 100
Every week, I round up my favourite things on Singapore, the internet etc.
Memories come in fragments. They are never methodically organised or neatly categorised as the way you had first experienced it. When someone asks, “Do you remember?”, it takes a while to jog your memory, to recollect a longgone moment in time. This is what Pangdemonium’s The Father attempts to recreate—a collection of memories in disarray, but bound together by an ailing protagonist’s mind.
Continue reading “The Father”: memories, interrupted