The prospect of interviewing an elusive hip hop artist from Seattle is enough to get any wannabe journalist quivering with delight. The fact that this media shy rapper is none other than Ishmael Butler of 90s Grammy Award Winning rap ensemble Digable Planets, adds another layer of excitement to my being. Unfortunately, Ish’s dislike of press coverage means that he’s nearly impossible to interview, deflecting my first question about the meaning behind his pseudonym ‘Palaceer Lazaro’ with a curt ‘I don’t really get into the story behind stuff’. To say I had my work cut out for me would be an understatement. It’s difficult not to presume that behind this veneer of profound reasons for rejecting press lies an inner insecurity about the experimental music Shabazz Palaces are producing. Their avant garde hip hop sounds a little like Cool Kids’ debut album with less 808 stomping and more unnerving whiny synths which are thankfully balanced by the sound of the Mbira (the Zimbabwean thumb piano). When asked to explain the odd song titles; ‘Endeavours for Never (The last time we spoke you said you were not here. I saw you though.) ‘, Ish replies: ‘I didn’t necessarily chose to make them long, but they were fitting’. I’m not entirely sure what that actually means and I don’t think he is either. His reluctance to label his own sound, explaining that he ‘would rather die’ displays a deep passion for his art, but also leads me to beg the question ‘why do an interview?’ Despite my frustration, it has to be said that Ishmael Butler is a polite and charming interviewee making light hearted jokes at every turn.

In my bid to delve deeper into his disregard for press coverage I asked how he felt about being The Guardian’s ‘Artist of the Day’ to which he replied, ‘o yeah I paid them for that, I sent them some new photos which they’ll release later if I get big enough’. Everything he says seems at once steeped in comedy and utterly serious, a trend mirrored in his music which at best provides a synth based antidote to the lyrically challenged Lil’ Wayne. All jokes aside, Shabazz is currently working on the score for Tough Bond a documentary about Kenyan glue sniffers which suggests that there is a layer of sincere depth behind the whole project. As the first hip hop act to be signed to Sub Pop record label and having performed at this year’s SXSW, there is a bubble of hype surrounding Shabazz although I doubt Ishmael would admit to being aware of it.

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The release of their debut album Black Up has been pushed back to June 27th due to problems with the supply of the gold specked paper they’re using for the album cover, yet another idiosyncrasy from this partially anonymous ensemble- the other people involved have not been named, whatever you do, don’t ask why.

Although Ishmael sees himself ‘in a palace in the Middle East smoking opium and learning some new skills’ by the end of 2011 I fear that the amount of pomp and mystery surrounding his music may end in an anti-climatic flop. Only time will tell.

Oxford celebrated the sunniest day of the year so far by welcoming Cuba to Middle England. The 12-piece Orquesta Buena Vista that took to the New Theatre’s stage featured three of the original performers from 1996’s Buena Vista Social Club – the Grammy award winning, world music word-of-mouth record-breaker. Joining them was the album’s original leading lady, Omara Portuondo, a true veteran of Cuba’s musical golden age of the 1950s and now 80 years old.

Last in Oxford in 2008, the collective currently touring under the Orquesta banner are a mix of old and new and together radiate a class and Latin cool that demands respect. Not one, not two, but three percussionists kept the rhythms coming, with bongos, congas and timbales, and Jesus ‘Aguaje’ Ramos seamlessly slipped between the roles of trombonist, singer and dancer, whilst also conducting the entire band. Omara Portuodo, wearing a full length pink ensemble and matching head piece, danced across the stage, repeatedly flirted with the audience (“Mas?” she’d ask, lifting her hem above her ankles) and cajoled the entire theatre into taking to its feet. And when ordered to by the world’s most energetic octogenarian, it’s hard to say no.

In an evening of virtuoso performances, it was Rolando Luna’s incredible piano playing that was the most impressive. Expertly blending classical, jazz and Latin influences, it was presumably him that led to the band somewhat perplexingly blending ‘As Time Goes By’ with ‘Beethoven’s Fifth’. Amongst Buena Vista staples like ‘El Cuarto De Tula’, ‘Chan Chan’ and ‘El Carretero’, there was also room for a jazz piano-led exploration of ‘Smoke Gets In Your Eyes’. However, the highlight of the night turned out to be a duet between Ramos and 77 year-old trumpet legend Manuel ‘Guajiro’ Mirabal. A small, portly man, Mirabal spent most of the evening swaying slightly out of time with the other trumpeters, but when given the floor he showed that blasting out spectacular top-note solos has no age limit. Between them, Ramos and Mirabal’s trombone-and-trumpet rendition of ‘Autumn Leaves’ reached a breathtaking peak of melodic cool, tinged with a sadness and quiet nostalgia that was beautiful.

As the night drew to a close, Omara Portuondo, who’d been resting on a chair, got up again to lead the audience in singing the original Cuban version of ‘Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps’, a task only slightly hindered by the audience’s struggle to repeatedly pronounce ‘Quizás! Quizás! Quizás!’ correctly. Luis Alemany, an elderly trumpeter in an excellent white cap, danced around the stage flourishing a yellow handkerchief, and at the end of the show my friend wondered whether the NHS couldn’t get the Orquesta Buena Vista to take charge of the nation’s geriatric care.

The biggest problem I had with DEM Productions’ Oresteia was the patronising tone of the adaptation. Both those wanting to enjoy an evening of theatre and Classicists wishing to see a slightly abridged version of ancient Greek tragedy’s only surviving trilogy will be sorely disappointed. What we have instead is the Orestes myth – according to director/adaptor/actor Ramin Sabi anyway – the way Aeschylus should have written it, or perhaps the only way we can understand it.

The choruses of the trilogy (elders in Agamemnon, women in Libation Bearers and Furies in the Eumenides) are conflated into a non-specific body whose primary function seems to be to spell out anything that might have a whiff of subtlety; ‘Agamemnon’s body was just like this’ one chorus member tells us as Clytemnestra’s corpse is revealed, ‘people could make their own decisions’ posits another in response to the idea of divine determination. The chorus also contributes to the play’s most irritating quality – its laboured and unnecessary metatheatricality. We are told we are watching a play in the opening lines, one chorus member demands to play Helen of Troy, who does not feature in Aeschylus’ trilogy, at another point someone objects: ‘No, that’s Euripides’ version!’. By the time Clytemnestra announced ‘I was playing a part’ my heart was sinking slightly, with less than a third of the production gone.

Sabi’s radical rewriting of the plays is not merely a question of time restraints (there are multiple scenes not taken from the originals, including an onstage sacrifice of Iphigeneia). The adaptation is conceived as ‘mov[ing] subtly away from a classical preoccupation and foreground[ing] the distinctly human aspects that underlie the elevated status of tragic royalty’. While what a classical preoccupation might be and why it is directly opposed to the ‘human’ is still puzzling, what this focus seems to amount to in Sabi’s Oresteia is a degradation of the trilogy to the level of soap opera. Clytemnestra’s character suffers most in this: any interest in her previously powerful character is destroyed by the revelation that she is just a woman in love (‘You showed me care and compassion, he never did’, ‘I thought you loved me, Aegisthus. I love you, love you’). Just after his matricide, Orestes turns to his accomplice sister and says glibly ‘Thanks, Electra, I couldn’t have done it without you’ – a line certain to raise a snigger from any audience. Any sense of tragic dignity is repeatedly undercut and this is not always deliberate – Orestes’ onstage breakdown (the onset of the Furies) came across as designed to be alarming and provocative, but was almost embarrassing to watch.

What saves the production in parts is the admirable efforts of the cast – acting is generally strong and the ensemble nature of the piece dealt with well. The Furies (Hannah Gliksten, Isabella Wilson and Lauren Stephens) are very impressive in their physicality, with Gliksten standing out elsewhere in choral sections and as Electra. Abigail Rees (Clytemnestra) also has moments of real strength – it felt like the script was doing her a real disservice in diminishing Clytemnestra’s role. Bobby Leigh-Pemberton (Agamemnon) and Olivia Barber (Chorus Leader) also worked well with the lines they had, although Barber’s part in particular was quite two dimensional and predictable.

This Oresteia, then, is a somewhat frustrating affair for any theatregoer – Sabi has made a fundamental error in underestimating his audience; the chorus leader quips that even a five year old should know the story of Troy, yet this is the level at which we are spoken to throughout. Motivations are crystallised at every point, our responses directed and our attention drawn to the obvious. This is Aeschylus minus the Aeschylus or The Oresteia ‘according to sparknotes‘ and not even the efforts of a good cast can save it.

Open air theatre can be a scarring experience. Typically, the sound gets lost and so the actors over-perform to compensate – all to an audience too busy wishing they’d brought coats to notice. Not so for DNA. Louisa Hollway and her cast stride as far from ‘typical’ as you can get both in terms of open air theatre and student drama itself.

The plot demands a creative approach as it juxtaposes a traditional bullying hierarchy with an almost unthinkable outcome. Their victim, Adam (Matt Gavan), disappears. He leaves a void behind him. The rest of the gang feel they must fill it with an explanation for his death in order to exonerate themselves, while individually struggling to normalize the terror which bubbles under the surface of every conversation.

The energy is constantly high. Sitting on blankets in the centre of the action, the audience swivel as the scenes change and the characters bombard them from different angles. The cast function as an excellent team, working together to maintain the fraught atmosphere and the lack of adult reserve, but manage to do so without eclipsing their individual performances.

DNA continuously pairs the mundane with the morbid. The archetypal gum-chewer Cathy, (Rachel Atkins) shows flashes of sadism, while the taciturn snacker, Phil (Jeremy Neumark-Jones) propels the action with his occasional lines. These take the form of psychopathically-delivered instructions for the framing of an imaginary ‘postman with bad teeth’, and become increasingly sinister when Cathy overenthusiastically follows her instructions a little too closely, turning their untruths into a nightmarish situation.

Until the ending, this allows the teenagers to enter a limbo, coping in various darkly amusing ways. Leah (Lauren Hyatt) particularly so, showcasing a hamster which she’s stabbed with a screwdriver in a bid to understand death in that emblem of packed lunches, the Tupperware container. Her monologues addressing Phil are a particular comic highlight, as much for her elastic facial expressions as for her refusal to be perturbed by his unresponsiveness.

I’ve never seen a production so suited to its site. Aeroplanes and intrusive ducks were incorporated, and thus contributed to an impressive blurring of theatre and reality. Technical devices were neither used nor needed. Hollway’s production earns its five stars exclusively for the basics: uniformly fantastic acting and directing. As such, it is a great rarity within student drama. Don’t miss it.