Simon Ward reviews Dagmarr’s Dimanche at the Crazy Coqs

The louche 1930s glamour of the Crazy Coqs in the Brasserie Zédel is arguably the best place in London to experience a real cabaret experience. A smallish room dotted with tables, champagne and cocktails readily available throughout from the impeccably discreet bar staff, a piano and microphone filling the stage. From the start, as Karen Newby riffs on the thrillingly intense opening bars of Tchaikovsky’s first piano concerto as an ouverture, it is clear that Hersh Dagmarr has big dreams for what this evening will be.

He enters swathed in a satanically-styled cape. Underneath the cape is a striking mane of blond hair and what looks somewhat incongruously like a tweed jacket decorated with a huge brooch. In keeping with the demonic energy of the show, he reminds me of a Buffy The Vampire Slayer mash-up between Spike and Giles. It transpires that Dagmarr may indeed be a vampire, one who has hung out in all the best chanson joints in Paris and seen Weill and Brecht doing their Kabarett thing in Weimar. But he is also very much living for the moment and so why not include the best of the cabaret-friendly music of today as well – Kylie, Sondheim, and Cole Porter join the roster. Along with Newby’s witty and accomplished playing, Dagmarr’s voice is more than a match for the repertoire – he insists that he is a chanteuse but his vocal range is decidedly male.

All of that said, the opening is rather downbeat with a couple of frankly melancholic Gainsbourg and Piaf numbers. As if by way of apology he points out that gloom often surrounds a Sunday evening, what with the end of the weekend’s revels not to mention the looming prospect of Monday’s travails. Things perk up with Dagmarr’s own arrangement of the Pet Shop Boys song I Wouldn’t Normally do This Kind of Thing taken from his previous show, also at the Crazy Coqs, which was a full evening’s cabaret tribute to the veteran duo. As the evening unfolds there is a kind of back and forth between the 1920s and 30s and the more modern, and between French and English, with a little German thrown in too.

There is a frankly bizarre interval act performed by Enrico Touché. He is made up to look like one of those Victorian or Edwardian cartoons of a strong man, complete with what looked like drawn-on slicked down hair, and large round glasses. He performs what can only be described as terrible magic tricks – that seems to be the point. He makes a decent fist of engaging the audience but ultimately it is all rather baffling.

Meanwhile, Dagmarr re-emerges for the second half seemingly much more relaxed. He is chattier and takes us with him on the musical journey in a way that has been rather lacking. As he relaxes, he starts to celebrate his queerness even more – Dagmarr’s version of Long John Blues is hilariously filthy, and the encore is the gay anthem I Am What I Am from La Cage Aux Folles with some of his own paroles françaises. An intriguing evening then, but one that somehow fell between two stools – on the one hand, the vampiric conceit and on the other, the more genuine, warm and charming host.

Dagmarr’s Dimanche played on Sunday 14th September at the Crazy Coqs, Brasserie Zédel, 20 Sherwood Street, London W1F 7ED. His next show will be Minogueus Sanctus at the Phoenix Arts Club on Tuesday 14th October.