She’s been called a “deliciously deranged postmodern diva” and “the queen of kamikaze cabaret.” But to her legion of devoted fans, she’s known simply as Meow Meow. And you can catch this Australian-born chanteuse this weekend, as OZ Arts welcomes Meow Meow for one night only with Diva and Disruptor.
A true triple threat known for her powerhouse vocals and outrageous stage antics, Meow Meow has dazzled audiences from London to New York, Berlin, Shanghai and beyond. She’s taken on iconic roles — everything from Titania in A Midsummer Night’s Dream to Miss Adelaide in Guys and Dolls. Recent credits include a sold-out run of her solo show It’s Come to This at London’s Soho Theatre, and Meow Meow’s the Red Shoes, which is an unexpected twist on the Hans Christian Andersen classic.
Diva and Disruptor promises even more glitz, glamour and laughs, as Meow Meow serves up a blend of “American jazz standards, signature musical theater numbers and niche selections from the Weimar Republic era.” She spoke with the Scene from her home in Australia, digging into her varied musical tastes and her deep love for all things cabaret.
For those who’ve never experienced one of your shows, how would you describe an evening with Meow Meow?
I think it’s just a ridiculously good time. At least, that’s the hope. There’s a press quote that I rather like about my being able to “shake the rafters with laughter one moment and break your heart with a torch song the next.” I think it’s that juxtaposition of things that I most enjoy. I like being able to surprise people. I love that little gasp of, “Oh dear, is she really going there?” I love the idea of singing the most exquisitely beautiful song, and then having the audience say, “Oh but look — she’s got her dress stuck up in her knickers.’ But the main thing is to throw lots of love to the audience, and to connect so that we all feel somewhat edified and delighted afterwards.
What is it about the art of cabaret that speaks to you?
I think it’s the freedom within it. It’s fresh every night because you’re not stuck to a specific narrative. Although I do love doing plays. There’s nothing better than Shakespeare, and I’m getting ready to do Sweeney Todd [at Birmingham Repertory Theatre in England], which is exciting.
But what I love about cabaret is you have a whole play within a song. I think it can still be quite deep and layered, but there’s something very playful and urgent about it. To me, cabaret is the ultimate way to connect. It’s not about, “Oh, these are my songs — let’s all listen and enjoy my voice.” It’s about meeting the audience head on. It’s that complicated dance, because you’re speaking directly to them. There’s no fourth wall. Then there’s the heightened comedy of it all — and that really opens the portals to everything.
What is it about the music of the Weimar Era that continues to resonate with modern audiences?
That music is so thrilling to me because it grapples with politics and heartbreak and the human condition, so it always feels relevant. Plus, the music’s just so good. I love the juxtaposition of dissonance and deep sweetness, particularly with Kurt Weill. That mix of brutal lyrics and a sweet musicality always speaks to me.
There’s a song that I love called “Ballad of the Drowned Girl,” by Brecht and Kurt Weill. It brings this odd sense of nihilistic peace — she’s forgotten in the river, but there’s this sort of beautiful sky over her. I guess I’m always searching for the beauty in the darkness.
But then, there are also these wonderfully silly songs, done with more satire. Spoliansky’s songs are all about politicians — how “everyone swindles some, so vote for who will steal for you.” It’s ridiculously fun.
How does it feel to be coming back to Nashville, and what do you hope audiences will take away from Saturday’s show?
I’m so thrilled to be back! It’s a lovely thing to walk into a town that you know is built on music. When I was here last time, I had a moment where I did wonder how all these songs — this crazy mix — was going to land. But then I realized, “Ahh, Nashville gets it. They’re just music lovers.”
The last time we were here, it was our first tour since the pandemic, so there was a special magic to it — we were just reveling in how lucky we were to be alive and together in that space. Now I think there’s so much anxiety for very different reasons. But again, I feel it’s really urgent that we have these little moments where we can just breathe, and maybe laugh a bit together. Not to forget what’s happening in the world, but to get our receptors open, so we can feel more connected.
That’s our job as artists and performers — to bring people together through music and laughter and beauty. And to remind ourselves, as Patty Griffin says, to be careful with each other. I know I can’t change the world in 90 minutes, but I’m going to have a good crack at it.
