Masterful Martyrdom

It only takes a quick scan of the Creative Martyrs’ haphazard presence on social media sites to draw the curious (and curiouser) into their intriguing, self-mythologising world. Outlandish claims that the Martyrs have been performing since 1883 rub shoulders with esoteric descriptions of what they sound like: "bowler hats, crumbling music halls and hymns in no-man’s land" being one such choice offering. Even the identities of the enigmatic Gustav and Jacob Martyr are a carefully constructed conundrum, with matching thick white theatrical make-up masking their true features. Dark suits and a bewildering range of headwear complete the camouflage of these secretive cabaret superheroes.

In reality, the pair of pan-sticked performers (who seem to hail from another planet but actually inhabit the more prosaic environs of Glasgow) are amongst the select vanguard of artists fighting to save cabaret from the safe and mundane. The pedestrian image which has long cursed the art form in the UK (a slick compere introducing ‘turns’ to a slightly disinterested audience still digesting their all-you-can-eat buffet) couldn’t be further from the Martyrs’ raison d’être. Theirs is an edgily entertaining domain, filled with song, intrigue, meaning and well aimed political skewers. This is no Sunday Night at the London Palladium or Royal Variety Show, and there’s not a juggler, magician or fire-eater in sight.

While their talents can be adapted depending on the audience—from a five minute musical club slot to a full children’s cabaret show—it is perhaps only in front of Edinburgh’s theatrically literate audiences that the duo can confidently spread their dark wings. This year, their latest mission east to Scotland’s capital sees them take over the suitably opulent Voodoo Rooms venue for their show An Hour Long Sinister Wink – part of PBH’s Free Fringe programme. It follows two successful sorties in August 2010 and 2011 with the arch Tales From A Cabaret, which took place in the rather more cramped surroundings of Fingers Piano Bar.

The eponymous tales took audiences on a grand tour of the world of variety, using everything from mime, song, storytelling and good old fashioned japery to entertain, inform and disturb. Consistently defying categorisation and wrong footing expectation, their show introduced Fringe goers to a range of colourful cabaret characters. These evocative misfits, they explained, were amongst the legion of freaks and talents to have entertained music hall and club audiences since the birth of the cabaret scene in the sinful Parisian streets of Montmartre over 130 years ago.

Acts like dancer the Glittering Raven, escape artist Darievo and "Esmerelda, the bearded lady—six foot ten and a little bit shady" were memorably brought to life—vignettes from their lives interspersed with songs and skits in the grand tradition of cabaret. The show delivered a damning riposte to the Simon Cowell brand of television variety, as the near supernatural performers fell from grace to be replaced by a stream of homogenised singers and comedians telling the same jokes in slightly different ways. It was with sadness and anger that the characters and performers combined to confront the regression from Grand Guignol to Britain’s Got Talent in a single shameful century of dumbed-down entertainment.

It’s perhaps telling that their dubious biography claims that, while their act was established in the 19th century, the Martyrs only gained popularity in the German Kabarett scene of the early 1900s and particularly in the underground clubs of the liberal 1920s Weimar Republic. It is this period of cabaret history the pair seem to draw on most – a time when the art form was the pre-eminent form of satire, holding the rich and powerful to account in packed, smoke filled, underground rooms.

That is not to say their inspiration is solely from this period, as their shows dip into multiple golden eras of cabaret—from the decadent clubs of Paris, through American vaudeville to the bawdy British music hall tradition. It’s a high-risk and intentionally divisive tactic—particularly with a cast of only two to deliver the thrills and spills traditionally associated with a larger ensemble.

Their previous shows have not been perfect but the signs for 2012 are auspicious. With the cabaret business booming, particularly north of the border, Gustav and Jacob have the zeitgeist very much in their favour. Just last year, the Fringe gave the genre its own section in the official programme, while this year’s T in the Park festival introduced a dedicated cabaret stage, and the delightfully dirty Cabaret Noir is doing great business across Scotland’s central belt.

The Creative Martyrs have a unique role in this movement and could well be a highlight this August, while at the same time resolutely remaining a niche product firmly in the ‘not for everybody’ camp – an act seemingly designed by the Cabaret Gods for the hedonists of the Edinburgh Fringe.