Catholic Church, Abuse and Homosexuality

The degree to which the Catholic Church engaged in a systematic cover-up of the sex abuse cases which are now being revealed is certainly still contentious. What is not is the series of ill-advised, and in some cases downright insulting remarks that have issued from the Vatican revealing a Church very much on the defensive.

First, the Pope's very own personal pastor made an allusion to the current series of scandals being akin to the persecution of the Jews. That this comparison is inaccurate is self-evident, that it is thoughtless, and an insult to the 6 million Jews who lost their lives in the holocaust is even more so. Many of the victims of the holocaust lost their freedom, their livelihoods and ultimately their lives as a result of blind hatred and pure prejudice. To equate their plight with a Church that is under attack due to the abuse of trust and criminal behavior of admittedly a minority of its members is not just bad taste but horrendously wrong. It is insulting not only to the Jews, but to the actual victims of abuse, and a pathetic attempt to paint the Church as a victim, instead of having it as a body give a fully accounting and reckoning for what has happened.

This especially is the case as more and more victims of abuse come forward with testimony, and with more circumstantial evidence showing the culpability of senior members of the church, who if they did not actively attempt to cover-up or circumvent the truth, at least chose to do nothing, which is a form of culpability in and of itself. The fact that church has repeatedly insisted that this is a private matter that will be dealt with internally, like many other instances of Vatican bureaucratic secrecy, has increased speculation that the church has something to hide. In any other circumstance, individuals facing such allegations would have to come before the open court to face their charges. Some opaque form of internal censure surely is not sufficient given the age of many of the victims when the abuse occurred, the abuse of positions of trust and power of the perpetrators, and the heinous nature of many of the acts. Those suspected of pedophilia should be investigated, and if found guilty, jailed.

Worse still, a senior Bishop, effectively the second most powerful man in the Vatican, has come out with the accusation that pedophilia is inextricably linked to homosexuality. The irony is, in the context of the Church, this might very well be the case. That it is not so for the wider homosexual and transgender community may be testament to the lasting damage of the Church's outmoded stance on sex and sexuality.

That there is a link between pedophilia and homsexuality in the Catholic Church context, is ironically, very much due to the fact that taking up the robe is seen as a last resort to many individuals unable to reconcile their religious beliefs which condemns homosexual acts in any form, and their own innate tendencies. Facing the notion that their inclinations and desires are inherently wrong, they choose instead to renounce desire altogether, taking vows of chastity, hoping that purity can be found in abject self-denial.

I am not saying that all the pedophiles and sex abusers were homosexual, in fact, far from it, something that already shows the inaccuracy and plain idiocy of Cardinal Bertone's remarks. What is does serve to underline is that abject self-denial, which is in line with the Church's notion of the sexual act as a kind of impurity can be signficantly damaging if the repression results in systematic abuse. This leaving aside the psychological trauma faced by some of the clergy, particularly the homosexual ones in this form of repressive self-denial.

How ironic then that the current Pope was the author of the last major Catholic statement on homosexuality, which trots out the usual cliches on the matter. Violence against them is no doubt wrong, but we should never detract from its inherent wrongness. Homosexual inclinations itself is not a sin - presumably engaging in homosexual acts itself would constitue such, but it "is a strong tendency ordered towards an intrinsic moral evil". Love the sinner, hate the sin.

Indeed, because it is a moral disorder, it prevents achieving personal fulfilment and happiness. As such "The Church, in rejecting erroneous opinions regarding homosexuality, does not limit but rather defends personal freedom". So, telling individuals that what many of them perceive (or feel) to be a fundamental part of their identity is an intrinsic evil they are extending the sphere of personal freedom. By condemning a whole group of individuals as intrinsically morally evil (and then stating that of course, they should still have our love), they are promoting their best interest. I struggle to see how.

Attempting to accept or condone homosexual beliefs is seen as seeking to undermine the Church. Those who represent the view of acceptance are ignoring the teaching of the Church. Supporting gay rights on grounds of equality is mistaken and an attempt at manipulation given that homosexuality "may threaten the lives and well-being of a great number of people". How exactly? By undermining the church?

In contrast, we have the Catholic church's stance on homosexuality, and indeed their views on sex in general including contraception. What harm has that done? Just ask the numerous victims who have been sexually abused by Catholic clergy in whom they had the utmost trust, and were often allowed to continually abuse young children systematically over an extended period of time. Just ask the young, confused homosexual men and women who are not able to reconcile their sexual identities with a faith that tells them they are inherently sinful. Tell that to an African woman who is infected with HIV because the Church tells her husband that using condoms is a moral wrong, and he uses that as an excuse to have unprotected sex with her. There is real harm, here. Harm that the Catholic Church must answer for. Harm that it can no longer deny and hide away. Harm that will not dissipate from feeble attempts to paint the church as a victim, or indeed as a bastion under siege.

Interesting Puzzle

I am glad that I rushed down to take part in the Brewerkz pub quiz after ringing Jake up mainly because we managed to win, with a team of just four people. That worked out to a cool 80 over dollars per person on the night, which was quite wonderful. I also won a free beer to boot after betting with Jake that Yokohama was the second largest city in terms of population in Japan after Tokyo, though Jake rightly pointed out that much of that depended on things like how you defined city and metropolitan limits.

I ended up having a long chat with the quiz masters afterwards, and it turned out that one of them was a banker, dealing with derivitives and thus analytical by nature. His background in gambling actually helped a great deal, at least in terms of securing him his job, because some of the interview questions were actually based on logic and probability. He challenged us with two specific puzzles which I only fully worked out afterwards, and it makes enormous intuitive sense, I thought I would share them.

The first puzzle involved a game of chance with a die. Let us say that you will pay in cash the amount equivalent to the die roll (e.g. if it lands on a six, the person wins six dollars). What price should you make a person pay in order to compete in the game? The answer is derived by using simple math. First, there is an equal probability of each outcome (the die landing on any number from one to six). So the average payout can be calculated by taking the total payout in each individual outcome (i.e. $1 in the case of die roll 1, $2, in the case of die roll 2) and dividing it by 6. So what you get is $1+$2+$3+$4+$5+$6= $21 in total, dividing by 6 gives you $3.50. So you should charge at a very minimum $3.50 for a roll.

He then added a more challenging twist. Say you give the gambler a chance at a second roll of the die. The number that then comes up on the second roll is the payout will be given (i.e. if you roll 3 on the first go and 2 on the second, the payout is $2). What price would you set for a person to compete in this 2 roll game? Would it be the same as in the first case, more expensive, or less expensive?

The answer of course is that you have to set it more expensive. Calculating the exact amount is a matter of logically predicting the behaviour of the gambler. To begin with, the gambler will not re-roll unless he has a even or better chance of improving his payout. Because there is always a risk that he will throw lower the second time around. So the gambler will probably hold if he rolls 4,5 or 6 the first time, and re-roll if he rolls 1,2,3. If he re-rolls the scenario exactly mirrors the first one above. However, given that the gambler has the option of holding on a high number and improving his payout on a low one, it logically means that the price has to be set higher.

How to calculate this? Very simple, first deal with the first roll which has a payout of 4+5+6 divided by 3 which is 5 - the gambler will re-roll otherwise. As calculated above, the average payout on a second roll (should the gambler roll 1,2 or 3) is 3.5. So the price set for a gambler to take part in this second game is the average of these two which is 8.5 divided by 2 which is 4.25. So you should make someone pay $4.25 in order to take part in the double roll game.

Singapore Live Music

I was invited by a friend to attend a free live gig at the Esplanade outdoor open stage this evening. It was a metal gig, and though it is not one of my favourite popular music genres - I prefer alternative and rock - I thought I might give it a go. She was going because her cousin was a guest musician playing back-up guitar.

There are often complaints in Singapore about the lack of any kind of independent music scene here, complaints that I increasingly find are thoroughly unjustified. It is an undeniable fact that the live music you get in most commercial bars and pubs consists of nothing more than cover bands, but I am increasingly learning of what a vibrant original music scene Singapore actually possess. Beyond our ability to manufacture Taiwanese pop divas, we have interesting bands that play stuff on the edges (metal, grunge, rap) many of whom are more than decent.

I love the feel of live music, the evident passion of many of the fans. The concert was fairly dead though until to the amusement, surprise and general gawking disbelief of everyone, an old uncle, dressed in classic striped short sleeve shirt got up and started head bobbing, doing air guitar and generally just prancing around. Singapore never ceases to surprise. Seeing him along with some of his old uncle friends attending a metal gig was already cause for much surprise - seeing him mimic a riff on an imaginary guitar, that was just thrilling and completely out of the blue.

Burns Night

Robbie Burn's legacy certainly lives on, from renditions of Auld Lang Syne (which incidentally means Old Long Way) every New Year's Eve, and more quixotically, in the celebration of Scottishness that accompanies the anniversary of his birth every year. I had never celebrated a Burns night before, despite being a part of innumerable other random British and Oxford traditions, from singing in the spring on May day morning, to wearing suits to exams. This was something I was keen to rectify so I jumped at the chance of attending a Burns night celebration at the Shoe.

And what good fun it was. The place was bedecked in tartan and of course with Scottish saltires, courtesy of the St Andrew's society of Singapore. The bar staff wore kilts, and there was the obligatory piper. The most fascinating part of the Burns night tradition is a ceremonial procession honouring the haggis, where it is marched in to the sound of pipes. There is then a traditional address to the haggis, usually in the form of Burns' famous poem, read out preferably in full Scottish brogue.

Everyone was given free haggis with neaps and tatties (which I found to my disappointment was no more exciting than potato and turnip). A bottle of Macallan whisky was raffled out and the winner generously decided to share it around. I am told that the best way to accompany a haggis is with a single malt - it probably helps to mask the taste!

In the spirit of Burn's night I thought I would mention some bits of Scottish trivia. Apparently, it is a tradition that real Scottish men don't wear anything under their kilt. Perhaps the idea though is to keep everyone guessing. As a member of the Scottish parliament said: "The mystery of what a true Scotsman wears under his kilt is as big a part of our culture as the Loch Ness Monster". Perhaps the best way to find out? Find a kilt wearing Scotsman and ask him to show you!

New Year's Greetings

This is rather rather late, but better late than never. So to all my friends, and to the (seemingly non-existent) readers of this blog, I offer my New Year's greetings:

May you live in adventure and mystery, in the warm glow of enchantment, and the thrill and fright of shadowy things. Read books that are good, and wise, that make you laugh and cry. May you kiss someone you love, and perhaps more importantly, be kissed by someone who loves you. Catch a snowflake or moonbeam, delight in the inconsequential. Most of all, find something not quite happiness somewhere in between rapture and joy.

[As inspired by Neil Gaiman]

700 Sundays

700 Sundays| Billy Crystal

Those used to the name dropping and revelations that are a staple of celebrity biographies will be pleasantly surprised by this book, a quietly humourous portrait of Billy Crystal's family which ends just as he begins his ascent to Hollywood fame. The book covers Crystal's childhood as part of an extended Jewish family growing up on Long Island, centering on his relationship with his father, and delving into his three abiding passions in life - baseball, dixieland big band jazz, and what would eventually bring him fame and riches, stand up comedy.

The book had its impetus in a Broadway show, which won a Tony award, and it is easy to see its roots. The advantage is the powerfully authentic and often personal voice that comes out of many of the pages. You can almost audibly hear in your head Crystal's famous voice doing his shtick. The drawback stems from the same source: for however good it translates to prose, many parts of the book begs to be performed. You want to see him work the crowd and do the physical expressions that are fundamental to some of the portraits in the book. A number of jokes in the early part of the book fall particularly foul of the translation from theater hall to the page, in particular a re-enactment of his very own circumcision, which might have worked with Billy charm and sense of comic timing but doesn't seem that funny inked out.

What a family Billy had though. The stories abound, from his Uncle Milt founding the famous Commodore Records which meant that the young Billy had personal interactions with a whole slew of jazz musicians, both famous and forgotten. Indeed, it was Billie Holiday who took a young Crystal to watch his first movie, and Billy's grandmother decided to give Louis Armstrong a hilarious piece of advice when Louis visited the family, which Armstrong thankfully didn't take. Billy's father eventually came to work for Milt and helped in the running of the record business as well as staging jazz performances and dances, and the result is a wonderful portrait of the grandeur and sophisticated charm of big band dixieland jazz in its heyday.

A particularly powerful portrait from the book, one that is easily overlooked, comes in the third chapter which takes the form of an extended one way phone conversation between a favourite aunt and her friend in which she reveals, complete with numerous asides and digressions, her coming to terms with her daughter being lesbian, and the brave decision she made to attend her daughter's wedding. It was an utterly authentic, real and moving portrait of everyday domestic bravery which deserves to be celebrated.

One of Billy's big passions is baseball and this is well represented in the short book, from his first visit to Yankee stadium, which began a life long love affair, to numerous household games with his two older brothers where they played out entire imaginary games, including their very own backyard World Series. One of Billy's abiding memories of the 700 Sundays he spent with his father is his dad patiently teaching him the fundamentals of baseball, and Billy finally mastering a way to hit his father's wicked curveball, all of which served him well when he managed to win a baseball scholarship to College.

It was also Billy's father, along with an utterly hilarious Uncle called Berns who had a special talent for accents and mimicry which an inspired Billy soon adopted, who initiated Billy's love of comedy. Billy used to perform jokes (often boardering on the inappropriate and sometimes scandalous) copied from stand up acts he had seen, at large Crystal family gatherings. Thankfully, the extended family not only has the grace not to take offence at the gall of the young budding comedian, but actually laughed uproariously.

Tragedy was to strike when Crystal was 15, when his father died of a heart-attack during a weekly bowling game, following some angry words with Billy, leaving his son both heartbroken and guilty. The rest of the book is probably the weakest section, tapering off with largely narrative sections depicting Crystal dealing with his grief, meeting and falling in love with his future wife (which strangely seems a bit dead and lacking much sparkle), and eventually ending with the death of his mother.

700 Sundays is a short volume, but is an enormous surprise as celebrity autobiographies go. This is a funny, moving portrait of an All-American family that is equal parts laugh out loud hilarious and poignant. It certainly deserves to be read, and if you are so lucky, perhaps even seen.

Grade: B+

Book Sale

Having spent a fair amount of time spring cleaning during the December holidays, I decided to organize a garage sale of sorts to get rid of old books and CDs which were no longer wanted. It was a kind of open house excuse to catch up with old friends as well. All in all, it was fairly successful. As expected, the interesting items were mainly the ones to go - double copies of good books like Ian Kershaw's Fateful Choices, and a volume of Frank Miller's Sin City.

Karin took several black leatherbound volumes of Agatha Christie as I expected she would; I also convinced her to take Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons - given her love of British comedy, I was sure she would love the book. I also managed to sell several other classic books among them a copy of E.M Forster's Howard's End, Greg Bear's Blood Music and several others.

Of course that left me with an enormous pile of hardbacks, which had mainly been purchased on offer from Borders, in the first place, which nobody wanted to touch. It's a classic rule which I have now learnt - nobody, and I mean nobody will touch hardback fiction, even secondhand. Blackwell's bookstore in Oxford knew that fairly well - one of their few rules governing the secondhand department was that they would not take any hardback fiction.

And of course old thrillers, Stephen King novels, and other such rather banal brainless reads were also left languishing, not that I was surprised. I mean, it was rather evident that my close friends were hardly the types who would pick up this stuff which was expressly dumped by me because I hadn't read them, or felt I would never read them, or found them to be horrible.

I also failed rather spectacularly to get rid of any CDs barring three Jars of Clay albums and Savage Garden's Affirmation. Admittedly, what was on offer was rather dire - Celine Dion, Mariah Carey, Richard Marx, Bob Carlilse, Rick Price smacked of overwrought sentimental ballads and were precisely being sold being they were relics of embarrassing teenage years. And no, I deny any responsibility for the two Spice Girls CDs on sale. Still, there was some half decent rock stuff which nobody picked up.

It was good seeing some old friends again, and I was quite pleased that I managed to raise over $100 for charity - in this case Habitat for Humanity. I should really try and prune even more of the mountain of books that I own and sell them, but human beings are acquisitive creatures but nature, and it is always hard to part with what you own. Still, a enjoyable enough evening, and for a good cause.

Old Brown Shoe Pub Quiz Record for 2009

I've been keeping a record of my participation in the Old Brown Shoe pub quiz over the years. So here's how it stand for 2009. Overall, I took part in 39 of the 52 quizzes for the year, a better than three quarter participation rate. The record reads at 22 wins, 8 second places, and 9 times taking the mantle of the quizmaster.

To go an entire year finishing in the top two is no mean feat, particularly given the evenings when some of the usual team mates hadn't been around for some reason or another. It has only served to underline how effective the team is - a potent mix of Britishness, youth (well, if I show up that is!) and a completely random range of interests.

I've especially enjoyed taking the helm as the quizmaster 9 times and I sincerely hope I will get the chance to be the quizmaster on regular occasions this year as well. It's not easy to set a good quiz, particularly a balanced one, but there is a real thrill to having created a good set of questions which everyone will enjoy.

Try and Try Again

The title of this post is taken from the old dictum that if you fail, you should, well you know. Unfortunately, I'm making these new resolutions not with the enthusiasm and go getting spirit encompassed within that saying, or indeed exhibited by the little engine that could (I think I Can! I Know I Can!), but rather with a resignation bordered with hope (not the other way round).

So I hope that I can do the following this year: exercise at least once a week; set clear targets and meet them (this post is hopefully a sign of that); be more punctual; walk the dog more often, keep in closer touch with friends; blog more regularly (twice a week); pick up a nice hobby/interest/passion; decide what I really want to do with my life.

They say as you grow older you become more set in your ways. You ossify. You grow comfortable, or complacent, or resigned. Which makes it perhaps even more imperative, year on year, to make urgent changes. Because next year, it won't be try and try again, but oh f**k it all.

2009 Year in Review: Concerts

Theater:

What the Butler Saw, Zebra Crossing Productions: A British farce with some genuinely laugh out loud moments, but ultimately disappointing due to suspect direction and a lack of cohesion among the cast members. Vernetta Lopez stood out, though Elizabeth Tan looked out of depth, and Gerald Chew was far too self indulgent in the lead. Some attempts at localizing the play worked (like turning a typical British bobby into a khaki wearing local policeman who kept saying "yes sirs, how can I help you sirs?", but others were often lame, and fell pretty flat. Quite a fair bit of the play was lost in translation. Overall, fairly disappointing. Grade: D+

Story of a Rabbit, Hugh Hughes: A very interesting one man show by a wonderfully engaging and charming Welshman. I loved the interaction with the audience, and the way Hugh could move from the comic and funny to the deeply introspective without missing much of a beat. Oddball and never less than interesting, this is compelling autobiography and avant garde theater that is engaging rather than pretentious. Karin got a free cup of tea to boot. Grade: B+

Much Ado About Nothing, Singapore Repertory Theater (Shakespeare in the Park): Two of Shakespeare's sassiest characters brought to life with real verve and flair by the ever excellent Adrian Pang (in comedy roles) and the wonderful Wendy Kueh. A slightly more uneven supporting cast, but a beautiful 1920s set and costumes, and good production values made this a lovely (but quite muggy) evening out. Or maybe it was just the half bottle of wine I consumed when watching it. Grade: B+The Cherry Orchard, Lin Zhaohua Studios (Singapore Arts Festival): Chekhov done entirely in mandarin was a better fit than might be expected. Certainly, the themes of a gilded landed aristocracy being supplanted by the proletariat is relevant enough to a Chinese theater company. The largely bare stage and minimalist overtones suited Chekhov nicely and the acting and direction was fairly spot on for the most part, barring a few strange moments (actors freezing when a rising scale of musical notes suddenly stops surely belongs in the worst tradition of farcical sneak thief movies). My only gripe: the subtitles were clearly truncated and often couldn't keep pace with the dialogue, compromising the subtle grandeur of Chekhov's writing. Grade: B-

Own Time Own Target, Wild Rice: The army and national service continues to provide fertile creative inspiration for local playwrights and this double bill of a play and musical is a very welcome addition. Laremy Lee's Full Tank is an uninhibited satire of the army what with golf club wielding generals, clueless privates, and a long suffering sergeant. Mayhem ensues when a tank crew goes on a joyride, while a terror suspect manages to escape from a prison (Mas Selamat anyone?). Botak Boys, as it's title suggests follows the experiences of a group of young men during their first two weeks of basic military training (BMT). It features some catchy tunes, and outrageously camp costumes, and it fairly good fun, if a bit twee and sentimental for my liking. The 'good cop bad cop' routine of the two BMT sergeants, with the short one prone to pontificating endlessly and the tall one limited to strutting about going 'chao recruit', and 'chee bai' was so true to life it had me in stitches. Grade: B

Defending the Caveman, Singapore Repertory Theater: This one man show was stand up comedy masquerading as theater. It did have its funny moments, but the material was far too unoriginal and well-worn to make for an interesting performance. I mean, men as hunters and women as gatherers, who would have ever come up with that original idea! There were appropriate chuckles for quips about how women can't read maps and how male bonding is restricted to grunting and staring at the telly, but this amounted to nothing more than a re-hash of complaints you've probably shared with friends over a pint of beer at the pub. Grade: D+

Hamlet: the Clown Prince, Rajat Kapoor (Director): Hamlet, as performed by a troupe of clowns turned out to be a fascinating mix of farce and pathos. The performance was compelling, right from its bizarre five minute opening featuring a spot-lit Hamlet going on a long monologue in gibberish right till the end. There was an ample variety of humour from moonwalks, and hilariously over-the-top accents, to a drunken actress depositing a handkerchief with an audience member as a sign of affection. What truly merited praise was the ability the actors had in switching from slapstick humour to the seriousness and pathos of scenes such as Ophelia's suicide, all within an instant. An original idea that was wonderfully executed. Grade: A-

Concerts:Eliane Elias and Ivan Lins: Think Brazilians and you immediately think of the smooth laid back groove of bossa nova, or the playful sexiness of the samba. Smooth sexiness was definitely evident with Eliane Elias, with her blonde bombshell looks. Elias was sultry but definitely not cold, striking up an easy rapport with the crowd between takes, giving background to the songs, and personal anecdotes, including an extended account of a holiday in Northern Brazil. Her languid contra-alto and smooth piano playing helped her to epitomize the bossa nova vibe. Ivan Lins, for all his reknown talent as a songwriter, didn't quite have the voice, the presence, the personality, or the looks to match. His songs were fairly repetetive in sound and people soon become restless. It said a lot about his character and resolve that he remained fairly charming even as a fair number of people in the audience began walking out, but he just didn't have the verve to charm the crowd and his quirkiness rather fell flat. Grade: Eliane Elias B Ivan Lins D-


Sondre Lerche

Coldplay: The popularity of Coldplay could be seen in how tickets for the concert sold out within days, if not hours. Although I hardly listened to their later two albums X&Y, and Viva La Vida, I jumped at the chance to see Coldplay perform live. The atmosphere was certainly electric, from the entire crowd singing along to their signature song "Yellow" (complete with yellow spot lights), to the repeated chanting of the main chords of the chorus from Viva La Vida to urge the band to come back for an encore. For all the technical baubles (disco ball screens), dropping balloons, Chris Martin's charisma was what electrified the evening, and we even got a chance to see Will Champion sing a little. A brilliantly fun concert. Grade: A-


Joanna MacGregor: MacGregor certainly cuts a fascinating figure, classically trained pianists don't usually come with dread-lock hair. Reknown for her eclectic repertoire, this variety was most definitely on show in her solo recital. The first half consisted of her alternating Preludes and Fugues by Bach and Shostakovitch a blend of baroque and modern that was illuminating rather than discordant due to her fine artistic touch. It was in the second half where she really was in her element, cutting loose on a number of Latin American pieces most notably six Tangos (transcribed by her for the piano) written by Argentinian composer Piazzola. Her dynamic range and versatility certainly shone through in a fine concert; thoughtful comments on the music she was playing was an added bonus. An excellent recital. Grade: A-

Nikolai Demidenko

Li Yundi: For once, the Straits Times got this one perfectly right. The headline of their review of this concert was 'shockingly bad' and it truly was. I had very high expectations of Li Yundi, a teen prodigy who won the extremely prestigious Warsaw Chopin competition at just 19 years of age. His rendition of Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 was disjointed, replete with wrong notes, and totally lacking in subtlety and grace. It often felt as if he were just banging the piano, and he was woefully out of sync with the orchestra (for once I am not blaming the SSO). This was piano playing not dissimilar to Sunday evening entertainment in the parlour. He even managed to mangle his encore piece. Grade: F

King's College Choir

Amanda Palmer, Live@Stereolab: I had little familiarity with Amanda Palmer's music and I knew her only as the new beau of Neil Gaiman, noted graphic novelist and all round genius. Indeed, she was in Singapore to accompany Neil who was here was part of the Singapore Writer's Festival. While in town she decided to do a last minute gig at Stereolab, and I decided to go after a friend described her as "Tori Amos high on speed" and the self-styled depiction of her former group, The Dresden Dolls, as performing "Brechtian punk cabaret". Palmer definitely had a wonderful stage presence, providing easy banter with the crowd, even when occasionally mangling or losing her place in the middle of songs. A classic moment was in the middle of her signature song "Coin Operated Boy", when an audience member completed the line "I need..." with the emphatic shout of "a dildo". Amanda's quick witted retort was that "everyone thinks the song is about dildos when it was actually about emotions and relationships and commitment and all that fucked up serious shit". Her most compelling and interesting songs were those from her earlier work with The Dresden Dolls, as well as two fascinating little known covers of "I Want You But I Don't Need You" and "Look Mommy No Hands", weirder was her rendition of Radiohead's "Creep" on ukelele. Her newer songs, even "I Google You", co-written by Gaiman, were dull in comparison. Still, a fun vibrant gig. Grade: B

Vienna Boy's Choir: The little boys with the angelic voices are back in Singapore yet again. This time they did a fairly interesting Silk Road repertoire with a whole range of music from China, to India to Central Asia. The voices were indeed heavenly and the boys also managed a few laughs with their use of random props, the choicest of which was two of them dressing up as a camel. All rather theatrical and detracting somewhat from the singing. But on the whole, they were rather irresistible Grade: B.

Count Basie Orchestra: It's not often you get old school big bands plying their trade anymore. Given my love of swing, I just had to go to one of the most famous big band jazz orchestras. The band played a number of the classic standards, obviously a number from the Count himself but other tidbits from the full range of the classic big band repertoire (including some from the Duke). The group was led (conducted would be far too generous) by a genial laid back old gentleman who often had to ask the band members about what they were next going to play. A nice swinging time overall. Grade: B+