Des O’Connor Show

Press, 26 April 1983, Page 6

Des O’Connor Show

“The Des O’Connor Show” at Richmond Workingmen’s Club, April 23 to 25 inclusive. Running time: 9 p.m. to 10.30 p.m. Reviewed by Claire Marsh. Cabaret, with its origins in Montmartre in the 1880 s, burnished with fierce political issues in the 1920 s in Berlin, furbished with glossy glamour and slick “showbiz 1 ’ ip/ Atqerica in the 19505, has arrived in Christchurch. The venue of Richmond Workingmen’s Club was chosen by the promoters, Trident Enterprises, Ltd, because of its large capacity. The hall is second only to the James Hay Theatre, and on Saturday night it held a crowd of more than 750. ' ' From 8 p.m. the audience was. entertained by the Christchurch group, “Jigsaw” with Rocky Moor on keyboard, Jevan Telford on bass, Roger Hanson, guitar, Stu Buchanan on reeds, Kerry Buchanan on drums, and the vocalist was Lyn Hanson. Lyn Hanson was a little nervous and apolo-

getic, but the group set the mood for a toe-tapping evening with numbers such as “Strangers on the Shore,” “Solitaire,” and of course, “Cabaret.” But it was Des O’Connor the crowd had come to hear and they were not disappointed when the trimfigured, superb English entertainer came on to the stage at 9 p.m. and entertained for an hour and a half. Resplendent in .satin shirt, sparkling midnight blue waistcoat, tight-fitting trousers and shiny shoes, he wooed and won the audience from the first moment with the number, “Sunny Side of the Street,” with the lyrics adapted to easy repartee. This was not the biting, satirical cabaret of Berlin between the wars, but a smoother, warmer entertainment of soft love songs in a mellow atmosphere. The audience was taken on a stroll down memory lane, (complete with table-top walk) and such favourites as ‘Til take you Home, Kath-

leen,” “You Light up My Life,” “Feelings,” “Unforgettable,” and “Stardust.” O’Connor’s range extended to impersonations of Prince Charles, Louis Armstrong, and a side-splitting rendition of “The Drunk’s National Anthem” which was “Everybody Loves Somebody, Sometime,” Dean Martin style. The second half of the programme moved into Music Hall when O’Connor began with “Hold Your Hand Out, You Naughty Boy,” and the crowd spontaneously took it over. Twirling an elegant baton and out-pelvising Elvis, O’Connor suggested that the show was a “Geriatric Punk Concert.” The backing was provided by four Englishmen, lending ladth foil and background to O’Connor’s special kind of magic. The charisma of Des O’Connor is instantly appealing, and his wit, spontaneity, and energy go towards an evening of nostalgia and music par excellence.