Eugene Blazejowski Walsh reviews Holy Order of the Confusion Sound, an evening of ‘ceremonial folk punk’ from Veronica Lacuna, Sophie Moore, and Chris Stabback in the basement of the Petersham Bowling Club for Sydney Fringe 2026 — a three-hour tightrope walk between spectacular songwriting and theatrical gimmickry, strongest when those two elements remain in balance.
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Eugene Blazejowski Walsh reviews Holy Order of the Confusion Sound, an evening of ‘ceremonial folk punk’ from Veronica Lacuna, Sophie Moore, and Chris Stabback in the basement of the Petersham Bowling Club for Sydney Fringe 2026 — a three-hour tightrope walk between spectacular songwriting and theatrical gimmickry, strongest when those two elements remain in balance.
The category is “ceremonial folk punk”. What does this actually mean in practice? As the pre-show countdown ticks away with 15 minutes to go and the audience fills out the “character quiz” left at their seats, it seems we will soon find out.
With the countdown and quiz in tow, it is already clear that we are not just spectators but participants — new initiates into the Holy Order of the Confusion Sound, at least for the next 3 hours. What follows is a tightrope walk between spectacular songwriting and theatrical gimmickry, and the show is strongest when those two elements remain in balance.
The 3-hour set (with intermission) takes place in the basement venue of the Petersham Bowling Club. This is not a concert hall or a theatre, but a community space that grounds the band’s identity in communal initiation and shared ritual.
As the countdown lingers, band members Veronica Lacuna and Sophie Moore bring a joyful demeanour. They make small talk with the crowd so intimately that I am left wondering whether I’ve stumbled upon a family gathering. Meanwhile, the third band member, Chris Stabback, stirs up an increasingly eerie ambient soundscape. Together, they make clear the show’s aim: to inspire a sense of belonging… albeit a somewhat unhinged one.
As the show’s first act of dramaturgical intelligence, I take on the character quiz, the first of many participations, and am found to be “the King.”
The basement is now full, and the initiation ritual is complete. The countdown hits zero, and the lights dim. The three band members walk up to the stage, chanting “A drunk, a magician, a clown, a king.” This self-description arrives on entry and immediately frames the show’s central idea. These are archetypes, not characters. The Holy Order’s relationship to narrative is less about telling a story than moving through states of being. Think of the Cartoon Network series Over the Garden Wall (2014) for reference: a blend of folklore and dark whimsy, where the uncanny feels warm.
The ceremony has begun… but what does it hold?
The band is a sonically cohesive unit. Their harmonies are melodious; their vocal blend is one of the show’s most consistent strengths — when the theatrics recede, their voices carry everything. The instruments are varied, with the ukulele in particular best suiting the band’s identity. It is intimate, slightly absurdist in tandem with the lyrics, and perfectly suited to their register.
The songs and lyricism are gorgeous, and the trio display wit and command of language not just in their musical performances but also between songs through their on-stage demeanour. A favourite lyric I noted was “You’re the cause of half my angst / I wanna cover you in Panko crumbs / Rapunzel of the water tank / I wanna be the rain that fills your lungs.”
That balance carries into another line, “Gasoline in your long black,” another favourite, which brings an atmosphere of something mundane and something dangerous mixing. This is where the stated “folk punk” becomes most evident, when the domestic and the unhinged meet in song.
Toward the end of the first act, Sophie emerges from behind the audience, draped in fairy lights, sauntering toward the stage with a delicate a capella love song. Sold through her wonderful vocal delivery, this was a honeyed moment, leaning into the show’s commingling of music and staging.
The Holy Order are as committed to theatre as they are to music — unusual for your everyday band, but entirely fitting for one that has grown out of an “avant-garde jug band project for theatre.” The performance works best when song and theatrics stay in balance, and it loses focus when either side takes over.
During one love song Veronica performed, Chris and Sophie interjected verses by playing a game of hangman, spelling “I love you”… the slow reveal doing what a straightforward declaration might undercut.
Similarly, a “curse list” was passed around for the audience to write in a curse (in five syllables or less) they wanted to manifest for someone. Veronica then incorporated it into the verses of a song in the second act’s closing stretch, to the great amusement of the audience. Unfortunately, my curse of “endless hayfever” did not make the cut.
At the point of the show most committed to theatricality, the “beast” was summoned. The audience made strange noises for the beast to collect via microphone, as the creature “gathered sound”. There, it masqueraded among the crowd, performed by Veronica in a crafty costume reminiscent of multi-person Chinese dragon-dance costumes.
Later, the Holy Order called on us to “row to hell” for a song, each row of the audience holding collectively onto a length of string as we rowed and sang. This was one of the most vivid and engaging sequences, and it reached what felt like the “ceremonial” aspect.
Between all of this, though, were the ad-libs. While witty and a strong connective tissue between songs, there was a line between inspired improvisation and meandering that added a fair amount of padding to the show, already at a 3-hour runtime. Jokes tended to run a minute too long rather than keeping the experience tight. This was especially felt in the middle of the second act, when some of the energy left the room.
Holy Order of the Confusion Sound has written excellent songs and has an equal instinct for theatrical ritual, but are they balanced across the show’s 3 hours? The tightrope holds… mostly. The slippage isn’t in the songs, which hold throughout, but in the connective tissue, where improvised moments occasionally stray past their welcome.
Much like Over the Garden Wall, the show knew when to be strange and whimsical and when to give room for emotion to breathe. They’ve earned their title, and they’re at their best when they trust the songs to do the work.
Nonetheless, I would listen to their music repeatedly. The show sent me away wanting to hear everything again on my own terms. The Petersham Bowling Club was the perfect venue for the witches’ brew of folk, ceremony, unhingedness, and warmth.
Band: Veronica Lacuna, Sophie Moore, Chris Stabback
Photography: Georgia Blackie
Venue: Petersham Bowling Club (basement), Sydney
Festival: Sydney Fringe Festival 2026
Reviewed by Eugene Blazejowski Walsh.
Event listing: sydneyfringe.com/events/holy-order-of-the-confusion-sound
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