Their agent bills them as three sultry sirens of soul. Adam Spencer, with characteristic cleverness, has said 'thin Human Nature, with curves'. They certainly have all the moves. And a lot of fun at Human Nature's expense. As actors, entertainers, dancers and, most of the time, singers (you try keeping up with that choreography and finding your breath at the same time). But, from a group called The Super Supremes, I was expecting more. More Supremacy, that is. As it was, that seemed to be the least of it. The second act took a flying leap into the 70s, 80s, 90s and 00s. No bad thing, by any means. We got everything and everyone from the corpse formerly known as Michael Jackson, to Thelma Houston, The Pointer Sisters and Bootylicious Beyonce. We also got a mercifully modest clutch of pretty lame jokes. Overall, the show veered, quite wildly, in quality and disposition from sophisticated old-school cabaret, to gay bar chic, drag queen cheap and RiSsoLe base. It's one of the problems any act that invests so much time, heart, energy, blood, sweat, tears and, yes, even soul is going to rub up against in the all too small entertainment market that is Sydney's. Being all things to all people makes sense, if you wanna make money. Or any kind of impact. It's marketing savvy, and I can see these darling divas killing the coporate market. They've got MacBank Chrissy bask written all over their sequinned costumes.
That's all very well, but from a creative and critical standpoint, I reckon a more Supremes-centric show would be the go. They mightn't make as much, but they'd have the opportunity to hone the sheilas they're trying to channel, bringing more affection and poignancy to match their mocking. The truth is, with that ol' Motown sound, and those infectious tunes, they can't fail. So why not give us more of it? Still we can't complain too bitterly. When on song, their harmonies are shiny and invincible. And in the second act, when they effect a change of skin colour, their physical comedy is astonishingly, mischievously brill.
It's a glamourous-looking production, polished to a high sheen, but the underlying script sometimes buckles, with less than dazzling wit.
But that's just to set-up and segue the songs, of which there should be a few more. But we did get some platinum-plated classics. The always haltingly potent pop that is the stinging Stop, In The Name Of Love. You Can't Hurry Love, which almost washes away the near travesty of Phil Collins' admittedly admiring, if not especially admirable, cover. But we soon move into the wider Motown canon. Again, who's complaining? But aren't they called The Super Supremes? We get the swagger of Aretha, via Think & Respect; both always good advice. We even get the compose-by-numbers, hit-machined Chain Reaction, from the pen of the resilient & rather repetitive Barry Gibb. From there, it's a small step, but giant leap, all the way to Destiny's Child.
Highlights, for me, were Heard It On The Grapevine & Blame It On The Boogie, but, as always, that owes at least as much to insurpassable songs as knockout performances.
At the end of the day, or night, The Super Supremes aren't quite as sensational as I'd hoped. There are flashes of all-round brilliance, but seeming lapses of energy and commitment. They're a bit like the little girl, with the little curl: when they're good, they're very, very good. They're never bad; far from it. But they don't always have a little more junk, than funk, in their collective trunk.
FOOTNOTE Their sometimes 7-piece band, The Sensations, would have made a big diff, I reckon: some of the electronically-generated backing sounded naff; the antithesis of the sassy Motown sound. And the mix left something to be desired, too, with their voices sometimes far too recessive.
PS As for Slide, it's as good and gorgeous a venue as Sydney has, and a marvellously imaginative reincarnation of a CBA branch. The Chubb safe is still, reassuringly, there. The bathrooms are a takeout from The Syarship Enterprise. And your shamelessly Gallic host, a dead-ringing doppelganger of Barry Manilow, with his bevy of attentive, obliging staff is refreshing. The food's ok, too, with a savyy winelist; but you'll pay a pretty penny.
THE SUPER SUPREMES
Venue: Slide Cabaret
Dates: every Wednesday in September
Tickets: $60 for dinner and show from 7pm or $20 for show only from 8pm
Bookings: Slide 02 8915 1899 or www.ticketek.com.au
