Frisky & Mannish really do cut the mustard. I’m not just talking about the Cluedo-style yellow bodice that Laura Corcoran sports as part of a poptastic outfit. Over the last three years, they have been a smash hit at the Fringe. They deliver on their reputation. They’re good, and they know it.
Pop Centre Plus sends up a career mentoring session (although when it came to the choice of the CV workshop or Frisky’s shoes, we can see which had the edge…). The audience are divided into five types or ‘career paths’, starting with Razorlight (those with wonderful hair but little other talent) and encompassing Britney, Justin Bieber, Elvis and Echo.
This gives a coherent framework into which are worked brilliant numbers such as the eleven phases of Madonna (a ‘motivational case study’). Frisky & Mannish’s core trick is surreal juxtaposition of songs and styles, so we have ‘Papa Don’t Preach’ in the style of 17th Century opera. There’s satire of grime (‘gram’) that is spot on and an explicit but hilarious Justin Bieber recipe. Then the lights go low and we have a mock charity appeal (cheques to F&M on departure, if you’re not busy buying their merchandise) for child stars gone wrong. They steer clear of pop’s real tragedies (Michael Jackson or Amy Winehouse) but have great fun with the likes of Nelly Furtado, George Michael and Charlotte Church.
The audience participation culminates in a five-strong ‘man band’ to which Frisky rattles out instructions. They produce some wonderful poses when told to touch each other inappropriately, lip-synch with panache and look like a plausible product on a swiftly produced album cover.
At the heart of Frisky & Mannish is vocal precision as well as biting satire – the singing is exceptional. Laura Corcoran’s voice in particular soars and pumps, but Matthew Floyd Jones also hits some very high notes. You worry needlessly that she might get hoarse from shouting and screeching in between.
Both performers have great charisma and insouciance. They are smart, and seem to disdain the dangers of pop. There is a scene in which Frisky mutters about her training but bends over a table for sexual punishment, farmyard-style. Otherwise they seem too sassy to be victims of their success.
The mad biting cabaret has a famous ending too. Their final number is a startling, sexy rendition of nursery rhymes including ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ and ‘Old Macdonald Had A Farm’, which had middle-aged men in the audience positively drooling. And the parting shot? ‘We’ve been Frisky & Mannish, and you’ve been… superfluous.’