Review by Steve Bennett

There are not many comedy shows where someone can yell ‘Shut up!’ from the audience and intend it as a compliment.

But the good-natured punter at this high-spirited late-night show was definitely enjoying himself... he just wanted to bask in the delight’s of New Order’s Blue Monday, which had just come over the speakers. ‘Shut up and play!’ was his full ‘heckle’.

For throughout this joyous show, Andrew McClelland commits the Cardinal Sin of the DJ – and talks over the records. And what records they are! If ever there was a comedy award for best soundtrack, Hang The DJ would be a shoo-in.

Those who do want to simply enjoy the tunes are rewarded with a post-show club, with McClelland and his stage sidekick Kieran O’Sullivan as the selectors, that goes on till 3am. But not before we’ve completed this hugely entertaining romp through the art and experiences of the humble track-spinner, which also serves as a refreshingly unironic celebration of pop music.

For while the ever-optimistic McClelland’s heart might be with The Smiths and Suede, as a comedian who DJs he knows first-hand the power of pop to get people moving. On the other hand, O’Sullivan, a DJ who occasionally ‘comedes’, is painfully aware of the pitfalls of *not* having a crowd favourite in his record bag – having been hilariously assaulted by an octogenarian for not bringing any Abba to a family party.

Hang The DJ is pretty poppy itself; it’s very light on meaning or ‘art’ but is the comic equivalent of a guaranteed floor-filler. Affable McClellend’s unbridled enthusiasm is infectious as ever, and he enjoys a relaxed chemistry with O’Sullivan, who remains largely behind the decks, occasionally chucking out a germane comment or even emerging for an anecdote of his own. It’s loose around the edges, but that only lends a natural feeling that this is just two music fans hanging out.

The show is largely story-driven; about no one ever believing tweedy McClelland is the DJ (even though his formidable credits include DJing at KFC, a dog grooming show, and a literary festival) or about how he got bored during a Pearl Jam concert, or about the odd comments both have got from party-goers. But there are also good gags, too... like metal’s flagrant disregard for the rules of Scandinavian punctuatiön.

Even when he’s narked about something - mash-ups or budget fashion shops selling New York Dolls T-shirts to girls who have never heard a glam-metal-protopunk track in their lives – McClelland remains happily upbeat, while O’Sullivan proves a useful foil with a drier wit.

But enough chat, let’s dance!

Review date: 6 Apr 2013
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Melbourne International Comedy Festival