If a variety show is described as “plastic confessional”, you know it’s going to be unconventional. In the relaxed atmosphere of the Re:Fuel Bar, temporarily rebranded the Satellite Club for the show, eleven separate performances performed by three different artists come from all different angles to entertain us. 

The first is Mr Glad, performing on the Hang drum, which looks like a circular outdoor BBQ and sounds like a steel drum. There is a three-year wait across the world to get such a drum, so the opportunity to hear one and hear it performed with dexterity is a rare one.

MC Elsa performs a cute and quirky ‘Mild Thing’ in a deadpan voice: “Mild thing – you make a nice cup tea. You make everything average” is a successful parody of the original song ‘Wild Thing’. She is our MC for the night, but it’s a fine line between the charmingly shambolic and the inattentive, which Elsa crosses by not knowing or confusing which act is upcoming, and this does affect the pace of the show. 

Poet and comedian Ian Loughran steps up for a poetry set, which are a Pam Ayers-style with some grunt, and his KFC poem has most depth. The poem about going to Middlemarch in the middle of March is a charming nod by an overseas visitor to our fair land. All poems are concise and easy to understand, which is appreciated by the relaxed crowd on lounges.

Ian’s later comedy bracket is based on graphic toilet humour and his exaggeration is not quite credible, so his jokes enjoy less success than his poetry.

Cydonia comes on for three sets of dancing, from dark fusion belly dancing, to hybrid belly dance/burlesque, then finishes with burlesque. Dressed in black gothic costume, she is sinuous and subtle, the dance suggestive of a tightly controlled prelude to sex and promise of relief.

Without a doubt, the highlight of the evening is Mr Glad. His second set is a great acoustic tribute to David Bowie, and the audience shifts gear and is completely and unselfconsciously hooked.

His third set is with talented guitarist Andy Parson, performing songs from his previous incarnation as Dr Glam, in a tribute. In a reverse turn of events, it’s fair to describe Andy Parson as performing, whilst being accompanied by vocalist Mr Glad, such is the rhythm, drive and musicality of this musician. Dr Glam clearly loves the macabre, with a wonderfully edgy song about a child’s fear of his own frightening teddy bear. 

In the last set, Mr Glad brings up his Skeleton Band and we see him at his idiosyncratic, ghoulish best. You have to admire a man who can combine the words: “funky”, “communion”, “Titanic sailing into Brighton”, “Hemmingway”, “staccato” and “Moulin Rouge on the horizon” into just one song. 

A self-confessed David Bowie sycophant (January 10 must have been a sad day), the influence of this rock icon evidences itself in Mr Glad’s refreshingly original song topics and lyrics. That is Mr Glad’s genius: his ability to push lyrical boundaries, which he then partners with precise wit, and his John Key song is such bloody good fun and further proof of his unmatchable penmanship. 

Mr Glad’s performance is also engagingly watchable. No stereotypical choreographed moves for this man. Dressed in sailor hat, black lipstick, leopard skin tights and star sunglasses, with the talented band also spookily attired, he owns the stage and moves with fluid confidence. 

Mr Glad is a highly original Dunedin gem and the sort of person who you become a fan of, hook, line and sinker and I look forward to hearing more original work from him. 

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