By
Thomas Connelly
The
crowd gathered and chatted, looked at mobile phones, took photos and
texted envious friends. Some sat on recently installed bleacher
seats, some on giant hot pink bean bags, some stood in the centre of
the hall surrounded on both sides. The rising din echoed off the hard
walls and was at the same time muffled by the soft humid crowd.
Phones flashing, children laughing. Out the open door the blue blue
of the river. Warehouses along the waterfront and the low foothills
retreating to infinity. And then the hushing anticipation as the
musician took the stage and nodded here and there with their
instruments warming up and calming nerves.
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| The Arrival on stage (www.benw.info) |
We
were gathering to see a performance of Ben Walsh's Orkestra of the
Underground scores Shaun Tan's The
Arrival.
The
lights fall and rise, eyes appear and fade away, rapid changes and
snatches of folk music and other snippets of sound and sense swirl
and build to a frenzy of faces and drums and horns and a take your
breath away in a galloping pace. The music flows, images fade and now
we see fearful children under covers. A clatter of drums, the wail of
horns. Mystery and Menace. After the rapids, a slow cool eddy.
