diamanda galas is scary and talented in equal measures. i once played a tape of one of her early albums at work: it cleared the warehouse. in some small measure it made up for all the shitty acid house and garage that i had been forced to listen to.
i saw her perform at the royal festival hall. it was a sedate affair. she was elegant in her evening gown, she tinkled the ivories and sang torch songs utilising the full range of her several octave voice. i had paid a lot to see her, it was a short set, and i was amazed to see goths walking in and out of it to go get an overpriced pint of beer in the bar. me i preferred to sit still and drink up the cacophonous, yet beautiful sounds she produced.
her themes are serious. her music confrontational. listening is part endurance, part experience.
along with john paul jones, of led zep, fame, she made a very poppy, for her, album ‘this sporting life’, it is one of my favourites.
diamanda galas is unique and everyone should try her once.
diamanda confronts:
and here she is with john paul jones, who is probably wondering if he can get her to do a version of 'stairway to heaven'.
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