(Moabit)
Backed by smart techno-pop production by Beate Bartel and Gudrun Gut, Canadian spoken-word artist Myra Davies delivers a supremely droll series of observations. Some are close portraits with the vibrancy of a Manet or Degas – on Golddress, she frets about a girl on the cusp of womanhood (“I’m aching to take her picture / it’s nothing compared with what the world will do”), while Inshallah is a funny meet-cute at Istanbul airport. Elsewhere there is a brilliantly pithy three-part retelling of Wagner’s Götterdämmerung (“Girl and a guy on a dopamine high …”) and a cool evisceration of John Cage and his acolytes, highlighting their snobbery while lampooning their methods (“If something is boring for two minutes, try it for four / if still boring, then eight”). As she looks at our sexist, violent culture from her panopticon, Davies is omnipotent, and drily jaded. But crucially – as on Noutiné, a stark lament about a father walking free from the killing of his daughter – not aloof.
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