Updated ,first published
MUSIC
Ashnikko ★★★★
Forum Melbourne, September 22
Ashnikko is the vengeful ghost of mid-00s femininity. They emerge at the Forum through an Alice-in-Wonderland magic door echoing Gwen Stefani’s What You Waiting For?.
Shaking a mess of violet hair in a Supre-flashback costume of white and neon yellow lingerie, Ashnikko (alter ego of American singer Ashton Casey) launches into Sticky Fingers.
With the whiplash backup-dancer choreography of Britney Spears’ heyday and Paris Hilton’s vocal fry, we enter the Smoochies fever dream, their die-hard fans a sea of sequinned fairies, glitter goths and Tumblr femmes.
It’s queer, chaotic electropop cabaret, all glitchy flickers, gut-punching beats, swagger and camp irreverence.
“Doctor, doctor, I need help!” Ashnikko cries, leading into the neon-flashing Full Frontal, simulating a botox lobotomy with a large cardboard needle.
Energetic pop-rap and Liza-Minelli-esque chatter counterbalances ultra-produced backing. It’s drag delighting in deviance with machine-gun cackles, the visceral lusts of Microplastics and ecstatic carnal gyrations in Slumber Party.
Ashnikko’s show needs over-the-top character and physicality to fight being swallowed by the stage. The Forum barely holds the angry, horny hyperpop of the TikTok sensation. A more intimate theatre could have enhanced the cabaret, a larger one could have amplified their star power.
The genderfluid genrefluid provocateur performs girlhood’s taboo interior, shunting between fizzing hyperpop wooziness and pounding, breathless anger.
Invitation is a trap anthem against violation. They dry-retch into thumping beats and bass growls of You Make Me Sick!. Chokehold Cherry Python drops from chunky metal riffs into apocalyptic battle cries: “Hey, hey! Death and decay!” Chichinya juxtaposes blood and sweetness (“Raspberry ribcage/What knife does your ribcage like?”)
As It Girl glitches with pop emotion, they strangle their past self. They have violently queered 00s-era objectification of the Alt/Cool/Tumblr/Suicide Girl.
As Ashnikko says: “It’s good to be a slutty little witch c–t in the year 2026.”
Reviewed by Kosa Monteith
MUSIC
Jason Derulo | The Last Dance Tour ★★★
Rod Laver Arena, September 21
When Jason Derulo named his tour “The Last Dance”, he meant it. From the moment the Floridian singer appears on stage, his body does not stop moving.
Surrounded by perhaps the bendiest backup dancers in history, he gyrates, moonwalks, and pops and locks until sweat pours off his brow, wiped away occasionally by a very lucky hand towel.
For the Millennials in the crowd, of which there are many, the first hour is like being transported back to a 2010s house party – appropriate, given it’s Derulo’s 37th birthday.
Older hits like Whatcha Say and Wiggle have 40-year-olds screaming like teens. Backing tracks do much of the heavy lifting, allowing Derulo to slip and slide across the stage. But when he does sing – through a sassy little Britney mic – it’s smooth as butter, hitting falsetto notes like it’s nothing.
Newer songs like Acapulco and Savage Love, meanwhile, lean into his meme status, getting the crowd to shout the TikTok slang term “sheesh” as loud as they can.
Hearing him sing his own name – the famously corny audio tag – in perfect pitch is both hilarious and magnificent. His energy is best described as cheesy, especially when whipping out the viral Mi Chico TikTok dance. But through sheer enthusiasm, Derulo gets away with it.
Like with most house parties, however, Derulo doesn’t quite know when to pack things up. He throws everything but the kitchen sink onto the stage – pyro, confetti, streamers, a DJ hype man, more animal print than most zoos.
We travel from “Derulo’s lab” to his jungle, velvet room and volcano, all of which are signposted by strangely irrelevant AI videos of cherry blossom robots, vampires crying blood and futuristic merpeople.
By the time he gets to Don’t Wanna Go Home, the AI videos and bass-heavy dance breaks blur together, making it difficult to distinguish each song. This is especially a shame when showcasing Let Me Be, a new track that he has only performed live twice before.
Though the energy noticeably lifts again when Talk Dirty and Want to Want Me strike up – cashing in on the Derulo nostalgia – we’re already as exhausted as the back-up dancer who just did 10 backflips back-to-back.
Derulo is undeniably a gifted and polished performer. Every move is precise, down to the way he flips his microphone and coyly lifts his shirt. But at this last dance, there’s simply too much to feast our eyes upon.
Reviewed by Nell Geraets
The Booklist is a weekly newsletter for book lovers from Jason Steger. Get it delivered every Friday.
Nell Geraets is a Culture reporter at The Age and The Sydney Morning Herald.Connect via X or email.From our partners
Disclaimer : This story is auto aggregated by a computer programme and has not been created or edited by DOWNTHENEWS. Publisher: www.smh.com.au
