There's something painfully awkward about spending an hour in a room with Genevieve Fricker. It's to be expected; she's known for writing songs that are equal parts self-deprecating and depressing, with just enough insight and black black black humour to keep the crowd amused, but still somewhat uncomfortable. It's both tense and earnest, reflective and worldly, all pulled together when Fricker cleverly intertwines previous anecdotes and cultural references with new bits. She may need to work on her crowd banter, but not her material, which can make you scoff, cringe and titter to yourself, so long as you've remembered to bring a healthy dose of cynicism with you.
Factory Theatre (finished)
