Melbourne International Comedy Festival review

We’re in a mock-up of a 19th Century Parisian Salon as the pianist, in frock coat and frills, performs one of the most acclaimed and poetic pieces in the classical musical canon on a baby grand, before breaking off to solemnly address the audience: ‘Pretty fuckin sick, eh?’ 

You don’t get that at the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra.

Yes, an uncouth comedian has been let loose on Frédéric Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat Major. That sound you hear is monocles will be popping out in disgust.

Aidan Jones offers an instructive analysis of the piece, which he first heard as a child. Likening classical music to hip-hop might normally be the domain of the teacher trying that bit too hard to make his subject trendy, but here the comic makes it seem logical. Meanwhile, in other accessible analogies, the piece is likened to a drunk on a train or a bawling baby.

Chopin wrote this piece at the precocious age of 21, we learn, among other biographical snippets such as his love rivalries and even the nationalist Polish politics of the day. The composer hated big performances, instead staging his work intimately in his own apartment or the Salon of the rich – like the one Jones has recreated in his out-of-the-way venue – and allowing the comedian to raise the topic of intimidating elitism in classical music.

This runs alongside stories from the Adelaide-born comedian’s own youth, fired from 14 jobs and discovering a taste for MDMA, clubbing and comedy. Although recently he’s decided to step off the show-a-year hamster wheel, going back to doing stand-up for fun rather than in pursuit of any success. Hence this more quirky show, enabling him to show off his piano-playing chops as well as his comedy ones.

The two strands don’t exactly work in, erm, concert, with the workmanlike stand-up often a distraction from the main topic in hand, even if there are some connecting threads beneath the surface. 

It’s as if he doesn’t quite trust the concept of a full hour about a single piece of classical music. But there’s no need for such caution; ticket-buyers are on board already, and he’s adept at making his subject interesting. His genuine passion for the piece – best illustrated by the air-punch moment when he spotted a recurring C-flat motif is also infectious. It doesn’t matter if you don’t care much for classical music, but you might be surprised at what you learn.

Keeping up the lowbrow treatment of highbrow subject matter, the Jones gives Goya a namecheck too, with a description of some of his most viscerally graphic work that feeds back to ideas of how an artist projects himself externally and internally. Weighty stuff, but made accessible and funny by being delivered by a beer-swilling 'bald dickhead with a beard’.

Review date: 21 Apr 2025
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Reviewed at: Melbourne International Comedy Festival