Barry Morgan From the World of Organs

His real name is Stephen Teakle but you probably know him best as Mr. Barry Morgan, the debonair, moustachioed organist that Adam Hills memorably described as the lovechild of Dennis Lillee and Bob Downe.

For the past few years Morgan has been steadily gaining popularity in Australian comedy circles after several show-stopping performances on ABC’s Spicks and Specks and some successful stints performing to both Melbourne Comedy Festival and Adelaide Fringe Festival audiences. With his return to the 2011 Melbourne Fringe Festival, the question then beckons; is there more to this guy than just a virtuosic organist and that million-dollar smile?

Fortunately, this question is met with a resounding “yes” as Morgan welcomes the small Tuesday night audience to his “World of Organs” store” displaying all the suave charm of a 1970’s newsreader. Usually mute in his television appearances, it’s nice to see Morgan finally interacting in front of a live audience. From his blow-dried locks and beige safari suit to the campy 70s set, there is an overwhelming air of nostalgia on offer and the majestic 1981 Hammond Aurora organ, positioned centre stage, nicely caps off this wonderfully dated image. The classic organ is a sight to behold and some carefully placed “cockpit cameras” and screens help to capture Morgan’s dazzling smile and display his fiery finger and pedal-work without compromising the organ’s grandeur. There’s even a retro bottle of Campari side of stage that Morgan can’t resist a tipple of in between some witty back and forth banter. Through the set and his friendly demeanour, Morgan is somehow able to transform the small space into one of his organ shops in Adelaide as he soon reveals his plan to sell off one of his prized organs tonight to a lucky audience member.

With a character that is predominantly built around a camp, toothy smile, it is both refreshing and amusing to learn about Morgan’s family history and where his passion for everything organs began. This back-story is presented through sporadic, reflective monologues accompanied by some comic projected snaps at the start of the show. These slick but poignant moments not only break up the powerhouse organ numbers (which include a hilarious cover of the “Skippy” theme song and the immortal “Hooked on Classics) but also assist in getting a handle on the man behind the smile. Teakle and director Ian Pidd are able to navigate and balance the fine lines between the dorky and the endearing in their creation of the passionate organ salesman. Clearly Morgan is someone who is completely oblivious to the antiquity that surrounds him.

OK, so the “organ” double entendres do get repeated too much and some of the audience interaction falls flat. However, when in the presence of Mr. Morgan you can’t help but smile your way through the majority of what is otherwise a tight and entertaining 55-minute set. As he shows us around his organ (cue that double entendre), Morgan’s obliviousness to the tones sounding nothing like their actual instrumental counterpart is nothing short of hilarious. Equally entertaining is his demonstration of his patented ‘one finger method’ for beginners wanting to learn the organ. For this demonstration, he gets three audience members to act as students and they are more than happy to play along and even provide their own Morgan-esque smiles as well. Any audience participation in cabaret shows can usually be a bit hit-and-miss but there is nothing in Morgan’s warm demeanour that is remotely aggressive or confrontational. This is a major strength of the character and indeed the entire show.

The Melbourne Fringe Festival is all about finding hidden gems away from the mainstream and a couple can certainly be found within Kensington’s wonderful Revolt space (including its excellent staff) and of course within Mr. Morgan’s smile. It’s hard overlook Morgan’s talent tinkering the keys, as it is truly the star of the show and as good as you’ll see this side of the 80s. Don’t be surprised if, when leaving the show, you have the sudden urge to grow a moustache, pop down to your local organist and bust out a few bars of the “Baby Elephant Walk” yourself.