Melbourne International Comedy Festival review

Musical comedy sometimes gets an unfairly bad rap: perhaps that’s why Matt Storer calls what he does ‘jokes that rhyme’.

But make no mistake, many of his songs are based on pretty trite observations. Don’t you hate it when your girlfriend steals your chips? Doesn’t autocorrect lead to some embarrassing misunderstandings? Don’t a lot of people have podcasts these days?

They are entertaining – and clearly relatable – but pretty disposable. You won’t be humming any tunes as you wander out, even if you’ve enjoyed the company of Storer, a relaxed, confident performer with a decent voice. Mostly he sings cheerfully, with the exception of a couple of the raps, which are on the aggressive side for a nerdy, mild-mannered white guy in an intimate venue when it’s still light outside.

Some numbers are more lyrically ambitious, but often in a slightly misplaced way. After hearing a black musician sing about his love of black women, Storer tries his white version of the same. Thankfully, Sweet Caucasian Love isn’t the Aryan rallying cry for racial purity it could have been - but neither is it quite funny enough to get over the buttock-tensing awkwardness the audience feels – a discomfort a bolder writer might exploit.

Similarly, there’s a song about ‘lady privilege’ he serves up as an antidote to men’s societal advantages, but the minor advantages he envies in women seem to make very light of the scary downsides he subconsciously raises with the ironically sexist lyrics. It takes real male privilege to do that….

This track descends into an increasingly puerile series of puns so weak he keeps seeking our approval to go on, but flippancy seems to be where his sensibilities lie rather than getting too deep about anything. A song ‘about anxiety’ simply concerns his reluctance to pick up a call from a number he doesn’t know, and he closes on a track about online thirst traps that goes simplistically dark.

You will see a different selection of numbers, and in a different order, as to give his discrete songs the semblance of a show, he uses the gimmick of getting the audience to select which of his repertoire will get an airing. We are asked to choose songs from five categories – love, sex, rants, him boasting, or ‘smart’ – and of quality ranging from shit to hot.

The chit-chat to deal with this business creates a winning sense of community in the room, making the most of Storer’s unforced likability. And when he plays the keyboard, there’s more of a sense of occasion than when using the backtracks which dominate the hour.

Review date: 3 Apr 2023
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Melbourne International Comedy Festival