The Spice of Life

The final song was approaching. I stood up on the third step, overlooking about forty performers, all ready to belt out a popular chorus. The lights were blazing and the mini band was bouncing.

From the back row, the joy palpated through the audience as our MC and conductor wielded the crowd - ready to join in.

As the thumping echo of ‘Ba da da da’ was tossed back and forth, the house was brought down. Everyone was satisfied. They’d walked 500 miles. They’d had their fill.

I was standing between a dear friend and a choir member I’d never met before, and we’d reached the end of a one night variety show for a good cause. 

There was a sense of fulfillment - an achievement in having come together for a couple of rehearsals and actually pulled it off. An appreciation in each other’s talents and a happiness in the company of those who, like yourself, just love being on stage.

But this type of variety show doesn't seem to come around often.

As a youth in the 90s, I would be asked several times a year to join in a ‘concert’ of similar flavour, particularly for charitable groups. Yet now I find variety shows have lost their zest socially. They’re deemed a bit ‘old fashioned’ and hard to put together. And I guess one reason could be that raising money can be done quite easily online now. 

It made me wonder about the history of variety performances. Have they become a thing of the past? Or have they simply taken on a different patina? And what purpose do they really serve?

Variety can be traced back to the mid 18th Century. The London Pleasure Gardens hosted acts that mixed music with other forms of entertainment, and developed into the Music Hall performances of the 19th Century. 

Across the ocean, Vaudeville was doing the circuits in places like New York and, in Australia, venues like the Tivoli were in full swing. 

The shows were highly diverse, fast-paced, affordable and ensured there was always something for everyone. A delicious blend of tastes and sensations.

Mum still recalls going to the Tivoli as a child to see exciting shows that mixed delectable sights and sounds with laughs and audience participation. It was a real treat for a child on an adventure in the city.

But iconic places like the Tivoli, which closed in 1966, simply couldn’t compete with the popularity of performance in one’s own living room.

Television left live theatre charred at the edges.

Much like the rise of cinema had been in the 20s and 30s, TV was a new, cheaper, more accessible way to be entertained.

But weirdly, live variety performance itself didn’t disappear. It was sprinkled INTO your living room.

TV was simply a new medium for vaudeville style acts, musicians, comedians and circus performers to reach wider and newer audiences.

In Australia, the likes of Graham Kennedy and Daryl Somers became household names for featuring variety performers for the second half of the 20th Century - often broadcast live or filmed before a live audience. 

I’ll never forget the enjoyment of cuddling up to Dad, watching Hey Hey it’s Saturday with its silly puppets, saucy jokes, audience roasting, and some of the greatest international and national music artists of all time.

And I believe it was the variety itself that allowed shows like Hey Hey to run for 28 years. In fact, when the show ended in 1999, it was still one of the most watched programmes on our small screens.

So why do we love a variety show?

Well, from a Community Theatre or charity perspective, they’re cheap to put on. A bunch of people singing or delivering scenes from different shows and artists for one night doesn’t actually cost anything if you don’t list or advertise the songs and if you’re not actually making a profit. 

Acts from choir to comedies to musicals to jazz to TV sitcoms to originals were featured in our little show - all raising money for brain cancer research. And each performer got a say in what they wanted to showcase, which meant our audience got the best of the best.

I think that’s why audiences get such a kick out of these shows. There really IS something for everyone. There’s no pressure to follow a story or commit to characters. 

It’s a degustation of small, bite sized meals - each one leaving a different layer on the palette.

And look, I’m pretty sure that most of our audience were family, friends or members of our theatre, but they really did savour it all. Something you cannot do when you donate online.

And I think that’s what these types of shows provide. A sense of togetherness. A sense of truly giving. A sense of true community. 

Maybe that’s what they’re for. 

We had drinks and supper with our audience once the lights went down, and it was then that the secret recipe was revealed to me.

Sure, the acts had been great and it had been a lot of fun to sing and be silly. But when the audience and cast mingled, laughed and made new friends, a fusion of folks was created.

And it solidified one thing.

Variety really is the spice of life.