Reggie Watts

Sydney Comedy Festival Review: I'm staring at a blank page, wondering what to write, and in a funny way it makes me wish I were Reggie Watts. He would love a blank page, or a silent room, or an unsuspecting innocent mind. He would appraise it the way a vegetable carver eyes a radish - as an opportunity. An opportunity to fill an empty space with endless random oddness.

That is really the best way to describe what Reggie Watts does. He escapes categorisation; his show comprises offbeat comedy, social satire, physical theatre, beat boxing and song, though not enough to actually be any of those things. He appears on stage with a keyboard, a couple of microphones and a loop machine, and proceeds to amuse and confuse in equal measure.  

Mostly he just talks. And talks and talks. And then talks some more. And the talking isn't about anything and doesn't really make sense. And it might pass through a number of different accents and octaves. But then again, it might not. And in between the talking he plays songs, which will generally have a bit more narrative than the talking, but not necessarily. There was a heartfelt rambling ballad about the funny side of seduction and a hip hop parody that had the whole audience chanting "shit fuck stack".  But sometimes he was just making sounds, which was the most impressive of all. Watts is a vocal maestro with a ten-octave range who can create any sonance audible to the human ear somewhere in his oesophagus.

In fact, I wonder why he makes weird semi-comedy instead of just creating awesome music? I suspect he enjoys messing with our heads too much. And I will gamely admit that it is fun to have your head messed with, and that's really the best reason to experience the show. Seeing Reggie Watts is a bit like sexual or chemical experimentation - you're not entirely sure what just happened, but you think you liked it and you'd probably do it again. Sarah Theeboom

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