Lydia Lunch and Joseph Keckler are both one-of-a-kind New York performers. The Garage International theatre is a converted church behind the Adelaide Town Hall and is an appropriate venue for the evening's spoken word entertainment. Chandeliers incongruously light up the seating area in what was the hall, while ushers frantically add chairs to accommodate the full-house audience.

After everyone was settled, the lights dimmed. Strolling onto the barely lit stage, Joseph Keckler made as if to catch the audience's attention. Which he did, then held onto for the next solid hour. It all started simply enough. What would you do if an Uber arrived at your house? Would you get in? The audience entered metaphorically, before embarking on a wild ride. Simple stories became operatic masterpieces. Home movies became a multidimensional experiences. Love songs. Songs of lust and murder. Everyday life as a pinnacle of passion. For his first visit to Adelaide, he certainly made an impression.

Titles projected onto the screen as the operatic story is sung in a heavy German baritone give a playful interpretation of the song. The juxtaposition is hilarious, so much so, that some audience members were almost reduced to tears of laughter. A seemingly straightforward story of eating magic mushroom cakes at a party becomes an epic analysis of the journey home. The simple narration of his thoughts once again had the audience in tears. A master of the absurd.

Keckler's command of his voice is mesmerising. From the depths of hell with his booming bass, to the careless whispers of his soprano, with or without amplification, he has total control. The acoustics of the converted church were such that he could sing to the audience a capella. With the chandelier lights back on, it becomes another love song as he circles the seated listeners.

After a short break, Lydia Lunch then takes her place in the spotlight. She's a little bristly with the microphone tech as she arranges a sheaf of handwritten notes on her simply lit dais. Dressed all in black, she likens the church setting to delivering a sermon. She abrades the audience, "Like a church service, you don't clap, you just sit there and listen for an hour." The sermon is like a stream of consciousness, part poetry, part story, some reminisces and anecdotes. Lunch weaves Adelaide into the stories. She is shocked that an axe attack had happened that day in Rundle Mall. (we are known as the murder capital of Australia she acknowledges). We live in a desert. She is from the desert. We have common ground.

But the common ground goes deeper than that. Stories of murderous lust seem to strike a knowing chord with everyone. There's a message of life but of living a life to the fullest. Making mistakes and learning, or maybe not. Partly epiphany, partly personal diary, partly dire warning, the show takes us on a journey as we can see Lunch living these emotions on stage in front of our eyes. Despite nothing more than a couple of microphones and a lectern, the spotlight showcases an extraordinary range of feeling and emotion.

Lunch doesn't take herself so seriously that we don't see the odd twinkle in the eye. This is no New Yorker to mess with, but one who's had a life and lived to tell the tale. And it's a fascinating tale. There's also an accompanying book that gives other short stories of lust and madness. In the end, it's lust and madness that makes the world go round. The excitement and fantasy of these worlds is what makes life worth living. Watching two masters of storytelling weaving their magic is another shining light.