Sans Souci

File under: nightlife, music, literature, Wellington

Last night's absinthe night was a success, and Neat was humming with music, poetry and intoxication. Sans Souci's vocalist has just the right nasal warble (I mean that as a compliment!) to carry off the classic Piaf sound.

It's perhaps revealing of the audience's mental state that of the poems performed that evening, the heartiest response was reserved not for the subtle sensuality of Baudelaire's Les Bijoux or the surreal imagery of Rimbaud, but for an extract from Valentine de Saint-Point's Futurist Manifesto of Lust. Not that there's anything wrong with that.