timemachine
 ”I decided,” says Darren Hayes, early on in his new show, “To build a Time Machine. I figured, if I could just go back, I could change all the things that were wrong. Say sorry to the people I’d failed, fix the fuck-ups, make it all better. But then,” he explains later in the evening, “I forgot - until we watched Back To The Future on the bus last night - that that never works. You go back, and you change one thing - one tiny thing, and all of now is affected. And, the things I did wrong, the people who failed me, the past, has made me what I am today. And I like what I am - who I am - today.”
It’s a long time since D and I have been addicted to the same artist at the same time, but Mr Hayes - in his current incarnation as soul-bearing electro divo, in his earlier ‘Michael Jackson Lite’ persona, and as the front man of Savage Garden - has become our new drug of Choice.
He’s Brave (as witnessed by both the afore-mentioned soul-bearing lyrics in his last two albums, as well as the fact that both this admirably theatrical show, and the 25 track Double CD it supports, are self financed), he’s honest and, in many ways, shameless (as witnessed by his unabashed hero worship of Prince, Eurythmocs and so many other artists of his 80’s and early 90’s childhood, and he’s so talented that he can get away with all of the above without coming across as worthy or derivative.
He’s a breath of fresh air in a pop scene filled with people lifting wholesale from the past whilst pretending it’s fresh, fly and original. Mr Hayes, in his This Delicate Thing We’ve Made album and the accompanying tour, is making genuine original soundtracks for his life now, whilst openly admitting both his sexuality, his history and his musical influences.
Honesty: The difference between homage and plagiarism.
As noted, the show is being paid for from Mr Hayes’ pocket. Well, if it was coming out of my pocket, there’d be a sight less animated back-projections, fewer (fantastic) costume changes, the dance routines would be pared down, the legion of set-pieces scaled back, and the whole thing done against a simple white sheet. Which might still work.
But thank God that Darren Hayes is both Brilliant profligate talented visionary and insane enough to produce a show based around an album that a lot of people will (tragically, because of the world we live in) be unlikely to hear, filled with images that last longer than most concert visuals, and on a stage that feels, perhaps, a little too small for the sheer scale of the imaginaiton displayed thereon; and that he does it with honesty, style, with, humour, and care.
I’ve avoided giving too much detail about what exactly the show contains, because we loved the Brighton performance so much we immediately booked for the Royal Albert Hall show in London, with a bunch of friends, and I don’t want to spoil the surprise for anyone.
But If you’re reading this, and you haven’t already got This Delicate Thing, or your Tix for Mr H, go click.