Hoo Hah House, are performing a fresh iteration of CODACHROME: a live DJ set about the time I fell in love with a [Trigger Warning], a one-night performance at the Pleasance Theatre on 14 February at 8pm. Tickets are available here. We sat down with Everleigh and Dougie to discuss their upcoming show
CODACHROME places deeply personal and traumatic material inside the language of a rave. What drew you to the dance floor as the space where this story needed to be told?
E: I have always found an amazing community on the dance floor. There is something about moving to the same beat that can make strangers feel like best friends, and good theatre has the ability to capture that same essence. As a form I find that very provocative. Then in terms of this narrative itself, whilst in the midst of a rave, it feels like the good times might never end, as long as you stay in the pocket of that groove. I find that sensation quite emblematic of intense, problematic and “toxic” relationships. CODACHROME is a show that exercises experiential form meeting dramatic function.
The show asks how trauma can shape behaviour while still inviting joy, movement, and connection. How did you navigate that tension without softening the impact of the subject matter?
E: That tension is expressed through Dougie’s, mine and an audience’s growing human empathy. I don’t have too much of an interest in answering questions for the audience. Nor do I want to simplify relationships like this into the good guy and the bad guy. What I am able to do as a writer/performer is stage a version of the truth and bravely allow for my opinion to shine through. To be honest, CODACHROME is scary for me as a storyteller. There is something very dangerous about the subject matter, people don’t like to talk about paedophelia unless it’s someone who we would never meet. Then there’s something very dangerous about the audience interaction and asking people to dance with us and then technical demands of a live DJ set. All of this immediacy makes CODACHROME very visceral and crazy fun.
As a live DJ shaping the emotional spine of the piece, how did you approach scoring a story that moves between euphoria, discomfort, and reckoning?
D: Scoring the music was an exploration. The process was organic, there was a lot of trial and error involved, I wasn’t looking at it with an intention to scoring or conveying themes. We played the scenes and checked in with ourselves and any feelings we got we listened to tracks which reminded us of those feelings. We found that sometimes it was a no-brainer, and sometimes we had to keep rummaging through our music to find something that resonated with those moments, but also keep the flow of the set alive.
In a space that blurs gig, play, and afterparty, how do you read and respond to the audience in real time, especially when the material is this charged?
D: During the show, I only really take the audience in at certain moments. Overall I’m listening to Remy and the music, it doesn’t really feel like I’m responding to the audience, I’m sure I am in some capacity, but it doesn’t feel active. I almost compartmentalise the sets and the show, the music is still playing during the performance, but it feels like it’s more of a tool to express Robbie’s feelings. The music isn’t in response to the audience during the show but rather a storytelling device. Once the show is done it feels like a veil seems to open and the space takes the audience in. Of course this is my experience of Robbie, Remy I’m sure is much more involved with the audience as she is bringing them along with her as the story unfolds.
What does playing inside a theatrical narrative allow you to do musically that a traditional club set doesn’t, and how has CODACHROME changed the way you think about performance and intimacy?
D: I was able to express myself in a more literal way when playing as Robbie, using the music to play with textures that describe how I was feeling at the time. There is an element of that in club sets, however it’s much more catered to the crowd, gauging their vibe and playing off them. Whereas the music in CODACHROME is expressing my tactics and feelings, so I am able to explore and play way more with volatile emotions than would be appropriate in a club setting… unless it’s the afters! That in itself has changed what I think of about performance and intimacy. The crowd is not only interacting with the music but my internal life expressed in each track and transition.
There’s an invitation for audiences to meet themselves through sound, sweat, and rhythm. What do you hope people discover about themselves when the lights come up and the music keeps going?
E: I’d like the audience to have a really good time. Maybe it’s just me and my skitty skatty brain, but if I gotta keep dancing, whilst reading a book or seeing a movie or painting a picture – I’m a sucker for chaotic multitasking – I’d be stoked. I hope the audience feels a part of the story by embracing the rhythm within their bodies. That they feel like they’re also risking something by moving and being moved. Ideally we create a little community by the end of the show, with everyone feeling hot, bothered and a bit better understood.