Reviews and Press
More to come soon, but for now here's what Kristen Grayewski of Venue had to say of the Cure All Medicine Show in 2009....
"Beers are served in brown paper bags alongside a neon green cocktail the bartenders call Cure All Elixir. Giddy with festive libations and spiritedly dressed in a fair share of ruffles, corsets and braces, the crowd embrace the Depression-era vaudevillean hobo chic the evening requires. It's the Cube Cabaret's second anniversary show and a justifiable sell-out.
Oh, the curiosities! Men in sweatbands and sock "enhanced" leotards who shamelessly gyrate to pop music (Boys and Dance) are followed by a high-kicking hula hooper (Justine Squire), token burlesque beauty (Mitzy Bear) and a bona fide contortionist (Rae Piper).
The musical acts begin with smoky, mountain-gospel-inspired a capella from the Tin Fish Sisters trio. Clapping and snapping they effortlessly blend their way through covers and originals with perfect harmony and sass. Their closer, a tune inpsired by a past job, features the hopeful chorus "one day I ain't gonna work hereno more" and growling gusto as theyrhyme "suckers" with "fuckers". Not your grammy's bluegrass.
Final act Boxcar Aldous Huxley are a Bristol supergroup of sorts, chock full of "members of" with dazzlingly impressive musical chops. "This song is about the plight of militant itinerant workers - hobos, if you will," and off they go: a saw and bow like a feline's tears and the chorus "born close to the rails/one day we will prevail". The next has a sexy, burlesquey clarinet start then waltzes off, glistening with the intricacy of harmonium and banjo drizzle. Another "tuned to B flat minor, our favourite key", features oompah squatting brass, angry-mob group vocals, a horn-section breakdown and song structure of epic complexity. The combined elements of the Boxcar seven are what rattle the bones: saw and clarinet are the cries, drums are the stomp and crushing under heels, the brass (euphonium, french
horn and trombone) the ominousness, the harmonium buzz the caged rage behind
sustained traffic horns, and the lead banjo and vocals pluck the beauty out from the trash. There are fists in these dirty waltzes of raw loveliness, and a sense that making noise en masse may just about cure all."
"Beers are served in brown paper bags alongside a neon green cocktail the bartenders call Cure All Elixir. Giddy with festive libations and spiritedly dressed in a fair share of ruffles, corsets and braces, the crowd embrace the Depression-era vaudevillean hobo chic the evening requires. It's the Cube Cabaret's second anniversary show and a justifiable sell-out.
Oh, the curiosities! Men in sweatbands and sock "enhanced" leotards who shamelessly gyrate to pop music (Boys and Dance) are followed by a high-kicking hula hooper (Justine Squire), token burlesque beauty (Mitzy Bear) and a bona fide contortionist (Rae Piper).
The musical acts begin with smoky, mountain-gospel-inspired a capella from the Tin Fish Sisters trio. Clapping and snapping they effortlessly blend their way through covers and originals with perfect harmony and sass. Their closer, a tune inpsired by a past job, features the hopeful chorus "one day I ain't gonna work hereno more" and growling gusto as theyrhyme "suckers" with "fuckers". Not your grammy's bluegrass.
Final act Boxcar Aldous Huxley are a Bristol supergroup of sorts, chock full of "members of" with dazzlingly impressive musical chops. "This song is about the plight of militant itinerant workers - hobos, if you will," and off they go: a saw and bow like a feline's tears and the chorus "born close to the rails/one day we will prevail". The next has a sexy, burlesquey clarinet start then waltzes off, glistening with the intricacy of harmonium and banjo drizzle. Another "tuned to B flat minor, our favourite key", features oompah squatting brass, angry-mob group vocals, a horn-section breakdown and song structure of epic complexity. The combined elements of the Boxcar seven are what rattle the bones: saw and clarinet are the cries, drums are the stomp and crushing under heels, the brass (euphonium, french
horn and trombone) the ominousness, the harmonium buzz the caged rage behind
sustained traffic horns, and the lead banjo and vocals pluck the beauty out from the trash. There are fists in these dirty waltzes of raw loveliness, and a sense that making noise en masse may just about cure all."