I seriously hope that Andy McGregor’s sublime Battery Park gets a longer life than its 12 or so show tour of Scotland, because it’s fantastic.
Andy wrote, composed and directed this gig theatre show about a fictional band from Greenock that might have made it in the BritPop era if circumstances had conspired.
In two 45 minute acts, the first hilarious, the second melancholy, we follow the rise and fall of this extremely talented bunch of misfits through a grudgingly acceptant reminiscence of the older Tommy (in his 40’s) looking back on his complicated heyday in conversation with Chloe-Ann Tyler’s Lucy. He’s buried a past that she wants to unearth and it spells trouble.
Everything about this excellent show delights; from a pitch perfect soundtrack performed magisterially by a pitch perfect ensemble cast (Charlie West, Chris Alexander, Kim Allan, Stuart Edgar and Tommy McGowan, alongside the aforementioned Chloe-Ann Tyler) to a pitch perfect script that had me in stitches with its accurate Brit pop references and just plain funny dialogue.
Charlie West gets the laughs as the moronic drummer Biffy (get the name ref?) but Chris Alexander as the older Tommy holds the show together with his profound reminiscences. The girls in the cast have the job of bringing reason and sobriety to the mix. Kim Allan’s Robyn is clearly modelled on Shirley Manson and carries it off beautifully.
A brother in law of Cora Bissett’s glorious “What Girls are Made of” this show deserves to echo that one’s undoubted and deserved success.
Look out for its revival. Hopefully at The Traverse at The Fringe next year.
In the pantheon of great Scottish vernacular writers Graeme Armstrong has joined the podium. He stands alongside James Kelman, Irvine Welsh, Ely Percy and Anne Donovan.
Maybe he is the gold medalist, but let’s see what novel #2 brings.
My only criticism of this amazing book is it could have been edited a little more tightly.
That critique aside, in the meantime we have a belter in The Young Team which is an auto-fictional story of life in brutal, and I mean really brutal, gang culture in Airdrie and the surrounds (Coatbridge, Wishaw, Motherwell, Hamilton).
Whatever, they’re awe shite.
The Young team tells of Azzie’s life as a wannabe gang leader through the ranks, to…well, you’ll have to read it
The grit in this story is that Azzie has a brain. Trouble is he uses it infrequently as his gang-inspired rage too often rules his heart over his head.
At times you grit your teeth so hard you can barely breathe as this horrific story unfolds. It’s not quite Glasgow’s Jimmy Boyle-esque razor gangs, but it’s not far short.
Life in North Lanarkshire’s schemes is awful, although interestingly Armstrong rarely suggests that, it’s just life.
Aggro, violence, wine (Buckfast) drugs and motherly love are the soothing embraces that make this land home. No matter what.
The drugs (or is it the violence – there’s plenty of that) centre the book. Azzie is close to being a junkie, but he’s also close to being a murderer (OK, manslaughterer).
He’s smart, but he’s also mental.
I wouldn’t want to meet him (although I would love to meet Graeme Armstrong). We read of his life from wannabe gang master to sensible 22 year old retiree. But the needle still skips.
It’s, to be honest, terrifying. But it’s written with the mind of a philosopher.
Azzie can escape, unlike most.
This makes it sound like a cliche but it’s anything but. Ignore comparisons to Trainspotting. That’s lazy and predictable. This is a far more serious, and more important, book.
“It’s shite being Scottish”, yes it is – in this den of iniquity.
The stories of rave culture add a bit of levity (but even these are horrifying in places). I wasn’t one of them (thankfully reading this) but levity is not a tonal reference of this book.
Many say it is funny like Irvine Welsh. (It isn’t). OK, it has funny moments. But it isn’t a comedy book by any stretch of the imagination. It’s much more Alan Warner than Irving Welsh in this respect.
So, don’t buy this for a laugh.
Buy it to , I dunno, I’m so middle class that I don’t want to say/admit it – feel better about your life?
Actually, naw, just revel in Graeme Armstrong’s writing skills.
It’s a belter. And it’s coming to a TV near you soon so get it read first.
OK, I have an excuse for my profound exhaustion. I’m 61 and I’m holding a job down whilst taking in exactly 60 shows.
God knows what it must be like for performers doing multiple shows, there are plenty of them, me and my wife’s favourite being Xhloe Rice and Natasha Roland (And then the Rodeo Burned Down and What if They Ate The Baby), who put on two shows and, when we talked to them, told us they were taking shows in too.
It turned out to be the fifth biggest Fringe ever in terms of ticket sales, but it was a stripped down official EIF and an uninspiring programme, apart from the dance which was excellent. What theatre I saw was sub-optimal. That said Nicola Benedetti is an inspiration.
So, as said, 60 shows with a big mix of comedy, theatre, dance and music.
What stood out?
Much, I have to say.
I get accused of gushing about what I see, but I spent months planning (advance planning) my itinerary and that paid off well with experience playing a role.
Certain venues are more likely to offer quality than others and that forms the basis of my summary.
Before I start I have to say that week one was banging with those in the know taking advantage of lower ticket prices, the second weekend saw Edinburgh simply overwhelmed, but it tailed off rapidly after that. The cost of the Fringe is scary , although I believe there is astonishing value to be had in ticket prices, even at full price. It really is a bargain if you can find good value accommodation and is surely the greatest place to be on planet Earth for culture lovers like me, in August..
The shows/Venues
Roundabout with Paines Plough at Summerhall provided England & Son (utterly stunning), Daniel Kitson and Strategic Love Play all of which were brilliant. Lady Dealer was good and so was Salty Irina, but Bangers disappointed.
Summerhall itself always inspires and Mass Effect, Ben Target: Lorenzo, An Interrogation, Klanghaus: Inhaus and Club Nights were all amazing. I didn’t see a bad show at Summerhall. I just wish I’d got Gunter and Woodhill tickets.
The Traverse had a mixed bag. Bloody Elle and No Love Songs (you need to see this in Dundee) were both gig theatre inspiration, but The Grand Old Opera House Hotel disappointed, despite the inevitable hype. After the Act was truly awful.
The surprise pick of venues (although it has been rising in my opinion) was Zoo Venues, it picked up three brilliant Fringe First and I saw them all, the Danish Insider, Funeral by Ontreroed Goed and Beasts(Why Girls Shouldn’t be afraid of the Dark) but also a great show from Belgium called the Van Paemel Family. They punched above their weight.
In dance I was blown away by EIF shows Rite of Spring, L-E-V and Alvin Ailey in that order but also the aforementioned Summerhall dance spectacle, Mass Effect.
The Pleasance delivered for me with great shows like Hello Kitty Must Die ( although still a WIP in my view) and the five star Lucy and Friends and the ever reliable Showstoppers (I also hear Icehouse was amazing).
Assembly definitely delivered. Mythos Ragnarock (Death metal Norse mythology wrestling), Baby Wants Candy, Party Ghosts and Tutu,
And even Underbelly had some quality with Kathy and Stella Solve a Murder and the quite good Choir Choir Choir.
Space nailed it with the aforementioned Xhloe Rice and Natasha Roland (And then the Rodeo Burned Down and What if They Ate The Baby).
And then, right at the end I saw Singing Sands a new Scottish play by Our Theatre at Greenhill. Magically heartwarming.
On the Festival, official, Food delighted but the theatre programme was gash.
All, in all a brilliant Fringe with one life changer. Funeral.
Two Fringe Firsts, a Five Star EIF Alvin Ailey part two, a performance art piece at the Talbot Rice art gallery, an hour’s talk and a signed book from Jesse Armstrong (Showrunner of Succession) and a preview of first works (x4) by young writers at Summerhall.
Let’s start with The Summerhall Surgeries, the last of four such one hour sessions funded jointly by Summerhall and the Edinburgh Festival Fringe Society in which four writers previewed 10 minute work in progress pieces to a small audience. A simply brilliant initiative and a peek behind the curtain of the writing process. My thoughts are captured below as all audience members were invited to do.
Next up I nabbed a return for Fringe First winning Ben Target (or Ben Target – with an acute to some – but WordPress won’t let me type an acute) and his show Lorenzo at Summerhall.
It’s a retelling of his inadvertent spell as a carer for his uncle (not uncle) Lorenzo Fong – there’s a clue somewhere in their respective surnames – during lockdown. His (not) uncle is nevertheless his most beloved extended family member since his childhood, which Target explores through the use of a shadow puppetry house (much better than Jesse Cave‘s incidentally).
Target is a stand up and repeatedly reminds us of his fall from a small height as winner of most promising comedian at the Fringe in 2012. And although this show is hilariously funny at times it’s really a sad story of death and palliative care administered in a truly DIY way, that gets close to euthanasia by Target and Fong, the Odd Couple of Death Row.
It’s entirely engrossing, spellbinding in fact, and Target should hopefully see a resurrection of his crumbling career as a result of this truly 5 star masterpiece.
I took a break at the University Courtyard and visited Jesse Jones‘ performance art piece called The Tower at The Talbot Rice. It’s rather lovely. The other show on just now isn’t.
Next to Zoo Playground (Blimey Zoo has had a great Festival) to see the third of their Fringe First winning shows. These included The Insider and Funeral, both reviewed earlier in the Fringe, But today’s winner was Beasts (Why Girls Shouldn’t Fear the Dark) a one woman play by Zimbabwean Londoner, Mandi Chivasa.
It’s a towering performance that charts the story of a young black London girl who is being followed through her neighbourhood by a man (although she describes him as a creature) at Twilight.
It’s told in rhyming poetry, although it’s kind of like a soft rap, that never stops the naturalism of the performance and often lifts it to glorious heights.
Appropriately in Edinburgh it almost feels like a riff on Jekyll and Hyde as our heroine Ruva changes role from victim (ignored by the police when she reports her uncomfortable experience) to victor as she assumes the persona of a lion-like ‘Beast’ and exacts revenge on the Creature. clearly a repeat offender in his stalking of young women.
It feels mythological, it’s somewhat fantastical but most importantly it’s riveting and Chivasa is a highly accomplished actor. Sadly only half full, despite its Fringe First, I’d highly recommend it.
The fourth event of the day truly was an EVENT.
Jesse Armstrong was in town for the TV Festival, but somehow the Portobello Bookshop had persuaded him to come to Port Town Hall to talk to 1,000 of us and sign his newly published scripts to Succession Season 4. To say he was entrancing was an understatement. The hour’s talk zipped by in an instant. My female companions were salivating.
Thank you Jesse. Like an audience with the Pope (as I told him while he signed my book).
And finally Alvin Ailey Programme 1. A step up from Programme 2 with Revelations again and pieces by Twyla Tharp (A jazzy Roy’s Joys) and another by Kyle Abraham (a funky hip hoppy Are You in Your Feelings?). Both were considerably better than the support pieces to Revelations the night before and rounded off an extraordinary day of culture.
I’ve only seen 38 shows out of the 3,750 or so that are available, but I’ve very carefully curated my festival So here are my personal, all five star, picks. (In order of my own view of brilliantness)
Funeral by Ontroerend Goed at Zoo Southside. A sublime experience like no other and incomparable.
Here’s what Time out said about it.
I’m sure I write a variation on this same introduction pretty much every Fringe, but there can be no theatre company in the world more bewilderingly mercurial than Belgian legends Ontroerend Goed, whose formally experimental shows run the gamut from flagrant audience trolling to some of the most beautiful theatre I’ve ever seen.… Sure, it’s an art experiment. But it’s also utterly transcendent, a work of elegiac beauty, a mirror on our own loss. I couldn’t have put it better myself.
England & Son by Mark Thomas at Summerhall Roundabout. (Paines Plough). A one hander beyond criticism.
An Interrogation at Summerhall by Jamie Armitage.
Bloody Elle at The Traverse.
Grit at the Ross Bandstand (EIF – a one off performance)
No Love Songs by Dundee Rep at The Traverse.
Mythos: Ragnarock at Assemby Roxy.
Club Life at Summerhall.
Lucy and Friends at Pleasance. (Not fort the faint hearted – and certainly not for prudes.)
But check out my first nine days’ picks including four of the six Fringe First winners. Two of them INCREDIBLE, (Funeral and England and Son) two of them not so much (Grand Old Opera House Hotel – predictably – and JM Coetzee’s Life & Times of Michael K – although how that show is eligible is anybody’s guess (same can actually be said for Funeral TBH, as neither are premiering at the Fringe).
We started out at Jessie Cave’s Work In Progress Show at Just The Tonic. First time in this poorly lit venue, half the audience tripping up trying to find their seats. How odd.
Jessie Cave is perhaps famous for being the partner of fellow comedian, philanderer and possible alcoholic (her words not mine) Alfie Brown. They have four kids together and that provides much of the material for her decidedly patch barely 3 star gig. My fellow attendees said it was “shite”.
Next up we are going to see Geoff Sobell‘s Food in the EIF next Saturday but we also had tickets for his free chat at The Hub that was surprisingly poorly attended which is a sham because it was a great insight to his work, some free magic thrown in, a taster for the sold out Food and a lovely hour in lovely room with a lovely audience.
It was lovely.
Jeana departed stage left at this point, exhausted whilst I returned to zoo Southside (rapidly coming up on the rails as a contender to Summerhall for the best and most interesting off-piste but rewarding theatre.
I’d already Seen The Van Paemel family and Funeral (fringe First winning) here and to day I moved from Belgian theatre to Danish for Teater Catapult’s The Insider, which is a one man show with the artist in a glass box in which he interacts with a prerecorded soundscape (we all wear headphones) and a series of excellent projections and special effects. He is one of the perpetrators of the cum-ex tax scam: 50 billion GBP ‘robbed’ from the treasuries around Europe and is facing the music for a sort of tax evasion pony scheme that’s getting out of hand. What are the moral issues of this. If countries lose money to dodgy financiers they have to reduce investment in, say, social housing or benefits. It’s an excellent production that was sadly, poorly attended. One to see folks.
After a long break during which I discovered the delightful Noodle and Dumplings on South Clerk Street it was back to Summerhall.
This was the day’s highlight which I attended with my sister Emily.. A two and a half hour long dance-athon.
Club Life is the creation of Fred Deakin (our host) one half of the band Lemon Jelly he was also famously a co owner of several famous Edinburgh night Clubs that eschewed the pretension of London’s “If your names not on the list you ain’t coming’ in” schtick.
Instead his clubs welcomed all and sundry and included the likes of Misery, Blue, Devil Mountain, Fury, Thunderbolt and, most famous of all, Going Places that took Lounge Core to the max and often played in Edinburgh’s 70’s style ABC cinema (now an Odeon) on Lothian Road.
Going Places was as famous for its stylish posters (by Deakin – he went on to become a succesful designer and his screen print graphic style moved on to computer graphics that grace all the Lemon Jelly sleeves) as it was for its music aesthetic. (See above.)
The show is Fred’s story, essentially, but also a deep dive into Scottish Club Culture in the 80’s and 90’s with a cast of five young dancers/actors. In a very warm room we are invited to join the party as Deakin plays music that’s representative of each of the above six clubs plus additional music of the time. The audience becomes part of the show as we join the dancers on stage. There’s even a bar with Souvenir Deakin cans and cocktails and the whole jamboree has a party atmosphere.
There is no hidden meaning or deep philosophical undertow, it’s just a great club night in its own respect and me and Emily didn’t stop grinning throughout its 150 glorious minutes.
A 100% music themed day today and solid yet again. We started with Davidson and McArthur, The Odd Couple.
They certainly are.
Davidson, who we saw last year is a good political satirist but this year used some old material and seemed to be off form. The ‘showstopper’ number about Rishi Sunak’s wardrobe, that bookended the show, was basically ten Wen to Mow a Meadow with some situational analysis, not good. His pal Finn McArthur, or Lurch, made the art of deadpan masterful with some very strange pieces, in particular their Jaws number that simply failed on all levels. When Lurch opted for character pieces like an affected poet he drew a lot of laughs – despite, not because of ,his acting skills. Avoidable for most I’d say.
Next up, The Fleetwood Mac Story (Both these shows are at Space) it’s basically Macwood Fleet, a Tribute band with a few stories along the way for context, which sounds dismissive, but is not. They are an outstanding seven piece band with a banging front woman. There is no impersonation going on here just a clear love of the band and their music in an unusually comfortable venue., A solid four stars for me.
For the most out there experience of the day I headed alone back to Summerhall for Klanghaus: Inhaus. An experimental performance art company from, I think, Berlin, although they all seemed English. It’s an immersive set in which you join them in their ‘home’ and they gig, very, very loudly (although sometimes beautifully melodically all around you, with interesting projections of graphics and film .
I loved it. Redolent of many things but if I had to opt for one I’d say Velvet Underground. Superb. Here’s the review I wrote after the show for their reviews box.
My chosen image is of Martin Bennet, because he inspired today’s Five star concert.
The day started with The Life and Times of Michael K an adaptation of JM Coetzee’s Booker Prize winning novel. The Baxter Theatre Group is better known for the spectacular puppetry of Warhorse and although this is a better tale than the flimsy horsey pish it’s less impressive puppetry-wise. In fact the puppetry is a wee bit half pish.
It’s a bit of a voyage of misery, but is charming and extremely well staged with great acting and an impressive set. Definitely not a life changer, but others in the audience liked it more than I did resulting in a standing ovation. I wasn’t that into it before I went. I wasn’t that much into it after.
Next up, a spectacular free concert at the Ross Bandstand by the Grit Orchestra, Scotland’s national youth brass band and pipe band, accompanied by the Royal Conservatoire’s Soprano and alto singers with a late finale featuring Nicola Benedetti. The stage was epic, with not an inch of space to spare.
The opening few bars set the scene for an afternoon of majesty, fluctuating between searingly hot sun to pishing it down rain. Never mind, the music overcame it all.
The programme featured the late lamented Martyn Bennet’s songbook and was epic in scale, imagination and emotion.
Tears choked back by both me and Jeana. Outstanding.
Two more music shows followed.
Firstly Choir!Choir! Choir! Which is essentially a musical rehearsal led by two Torontonians who teach the audience a multi-part song each night. On our visit it was the songbook of George Harrison with A Long And Winding Road being the complex centrepiece at Udderbelly. It’s tremendous, uplifting fun.
Finally the incomparable Baby Wants Candy, a kind of low rent version of Showstoppers, but no less wonderful. Debate raged about which is better. Showstoppers in its swanky arena or Baby in its smaller scale, but no smaller ambition hothouse. For audience approval Baby wins every time, tonight has a particularly raucous audience as they performed Sweeney Toes the Demon Masseuse of Feet Street. This led to much wonderment in terms of Sweeney Music but also an absurd plot that we all loved. Everyone should see this five star company
So two fives a four and a slightly grudging three.
Not the best by a long way but plenty to get excited about.
Dry as a bone and with a mahoosive tent that I shared with my sister, Emily, it meant we were in relative comfort despite the constantly deflating airbed and the extreme heat of the Saturday (a pal of mine’s girlfriend had to go home with heat stroke).
We arrived, as usual, at 9.30 Thursday morning and really struggled to find a pitch in the Dairy Field, eventually having to ask our neighbour to move his tent a couple of feet. The sweat pissed off us collectively as we set camp and took hours to cool down but come 12 me, Alan and Emily went in search of our Yurt Loving bastard friends Pat and Paula. Fresh as daisies they emerged from the shimmering heat to enjoy our first pint of the day.
Thursday
Was mostly exploratory but we enjoyed The Beatles Dub Club in Shangri La and a first ever (excellent) comedy gig by Jonathan Pie in the Astrolobe. Showhawk Duo on the Bandstand were a disappointment, way too crowded and actually not that good anyway as they played Ibiza hits on acoustic guitar.
Friday
Was the first music day proper and I saw:
Star Feminine Band from Benin. Beautiful chill opener but not life changing
Yaya Bey from USA. Kinda mix of Jazz, R&B and soul/reggae. I liked her a lot. And of course both gigs benefited from being own West Holts (I attended more than quarter of my gigs on this sublime stage. Park has a lot too).
Billy Nomates on the Park came in for terrible trolling for using backing tapes burt that’s her thing. Brilliant. First highlight of the week.
Then back to West Holts for Gabriels. Now we are talking star material here. This band, or at least the singer will be massive (He later came on with Elton on the Sunday closer such is his promise).
Foo Fighters on Pyramid were tolerable but then we headed uphill again to The Park for the best ever Sparks Gig (I’ve been at – my third) with a show stopping cameo by Cate Blanchette in her stunning yellow suit.
We opted to miss Arctic Monkeys and were rewarded with a stunning set by Fever Ray that was thrillingly atmospheric. Only the Park Stage can deliver this.
Saturday
The heat was appalling!
Say She She opened on West Holts lovely Discodelic Soul from a top trio.
Then we had to run for cover but struck lucky with an hour and a half of Dub Reggae with the Channel One Soundsystem on The Glade Stage, in the shade by the water dispenser. Bliss.
Back out into the heat for Sudan Archives whose early sound problems stymied her gig and was ultimately one of the week’s disappointments.
Badly Drawn Boy in the Acoustic Tent was fine but it was too mukluk so I repaired to the shade and a hot can of Punk IPA. Gruesome. He was decent though.
I wish I could have seen the full Maggie Rogers set on The Other Stage. She’s a roots star in the making with the looks to guarantee cover pics on Rolling Stone.
I missed it because I was about to fulfil a 20 year ambition of seeing Tinariwen Live on Park. Boiling hot as it was the Bedouin guitar band rocked it in their unique swanky, jazzy way that only they can do. Sublime and trancelike.
I stayed on Park for Leftfield and was blown away by their sonic attack with deep bass growling right through the ground. Wonderful.
After that, again on park, The Pretenders blew us away. My God can Chrissie Hyde sing and guest appearances from Johnny Marr, Dave Grohl and even Macca came on for a bow. Outstanding rock and roll.
Then to close we saw the first three songs of a pathetic Lana Del Ray set on Other before bailing to see an equally grim Steve Hillage Band in the Glade.
Sunday
Opened with the glorious N’famade Koutyate on Avalon. One of my picks of the week he did not disappoint with a charming set featured around his two Balaphones (one major, one minor).
Then we set off for The Pyramid and the glorious The Chicks set.
Next another hike up the hill rewarded by a beautiful hippy trippy (and very funny chat) from Weyes Blood. A highlight. Before back doewn again to Pyramid for an awful set (ruined by the wind even further) by Blondie. I wish I’d seen her in her prime but twice in her 70’s was once too much.
We popped back to West Holts for a cool set by Barrington Levy followed by a trip back in timne with Candie Staton that Emily and I danced wildly too before ending our festival at Elton John in a huge crown but rewarded wit by a set full of pure bangers with his pipes in good shape. It was all it promised to be, and more.
Monday
The drive home was gruesome. The M6 closed TWICE and a 14 hour journey. Thank God I split the trip with Emily.
I watched this documentary at the Omni Centre in Edinburgh 50 years to the day that David Bowie retired Ziggy at The Hammersmith Odeon at the last gig of his Aladdin Sane tour.
It’s a profoundly moving experience in the cinema because this is maybe the greatest ever pop star at the very top of his game, on show with one of the greatest ever guitarists, Mick Ronson , on fire with his orgasm face in full flow throughout.
Not only is it a great gig (filmed almost in full) but it’s also a great documentary because we get behind the scenes footage, mostly with Suzanne Fussey, Ronson’s wife , applying Bowies make up and adjusting his weirdly unwonderful costumes. And a very very brief cameo from Ringo Star.
The crowd footage is particularly naïve, (in a good and endlessly interesting way). Shot in the natural light of the auditorium it veers from entirely revealing to shadowy mystery and this only adds to the overall mystique.
Of course the gig is FULL of bangers from Hunky Dory, Ziggy (naturally) Aladdin Sane and The Man Who Ruled The World, plus a bit of Space Oddity (notably Space Oddity itself).
There’s a wee spot of Lindsay Kemp madness as Bowie mimes his way out of a box. Like a prick. But that doesn’t distract too much.
The man himself is at his peak. He’s simply beautiful and there are no signs of the substance abuse that he indulged in heavily at the time. Instead we get a vocal performance of outrageous perfection and that’s what makes this a religious experience.
Try to see it in the cinema or at the very least at 100% volume on your TV when it comes to Netflix.
Oh dear. There was so much to desire from this book. A history of my informative years in which two Scottish Labels (Fast and Postcard) were making Scotland the centre of the musical universe, right here in my own back yard. It was an amazing time.
Add to that the fact that the two central characters, the svengalis of the scene, were Bob Last and Alan Horne and that I know Bob well (indeed he is chair of the Leith Theatre on whose board I serve) and you have a recipe for greatness.
To be fair no stone is unturned in the research and there are thousands of interview snippets from the likes of Edwyn Collins of Orange Juice, Roddy Frame of Aztec Camera, Davy Henderson from Fire Engines, Phil Oakey et al from the Human League – alongside contributions from Altered Images, Josef K, Scars, Rezillos, Gang of Four, Joy Division, The Bluebells, Associates, and many more including Geoff Travis of Rough Trade.
Between these myriad interviews is a good, strong chronological narration of the times but, the trouble is, the interviews themselves are often flabby and repetitive with sometimes several renderings of the same topic. It can get really tedious.
Putting that to one side, and it’s a big put-aside, the story is great with Last coming out of it all as a hero and Horne a bit of a dork.
Consequently it can only possibly be of interest for a thin sliver of the boomer post-punk generation and even then it’s a marathon, not a sprint. If it comes out in paperback I’d recommend a tortuous visit to the editor’s room.
But, for those interested in the scene it is a must read. I just wish it had been leaner.
OK let’s get going with The Latvian entry Let 3’s, Mama ŠČ!
The Eurovision Song Contest celebrates diversity through music – nothing could be more apparent than this appalling song with a cast of five Hitler-light male drag singers and an intervention from a Croatian Lurch carrying a pair of smoking nuclear warheads. My guess is these guys are not meant to be fascists but maybe making some non-understandable anti war statement.
It’s bonkers and a lot of fun. The trouble is, without the visuals you are left with a slightly out of tune, punky Macarena, and we all know the Macarena is unbearable at the best off times.
Pish but fun.
Anna’s View
Croatia has a remarkable ability to traverse the musical spectrum with unfathomable fluidity.
They’re the nation that gave us ‘Guilty Pleasure’, ‘Tick-Tock’ and ‘Nebo’ – entries which are competitively nebulous. They’re also the nation that gave us Jacques Houdek – a man who stood on stage, (nearly) missed all his cues and still managed to perform a duet with himself. Now they give us ‘Mama ŠČ’.
Not Mama ‘S.C.’ as it was pronounced on a news podcast.
This entry is far from nebulous. It’s political, it’s satirical, it’s a veritable ‘washing-machine’ of a performance – with a pair of missiles, several costume changes and some spangled netting thrown in for good measure. This is more closely aligned with entries of a Eurovision since deceased – the mirroring spirits of Bosnia’s Laka and Verka Serduchka are resonant here, and that resonance will undoubtably extend to the viewer at home. It’s contextually political – evidently – but it’s competitively nostalgic.
Musically, it’s neither here nor there. And that seems to be the point. This band want to make a statement, and a statement is what they make. In terms of voting power, I don’t believe the viewers will be swayed by it’s tangible satirical overtones – instead responding to a rousing display of madness before them.
The more tunefully-inclined, however, might not get the joke.
Prediction: POSSIBLE QUALIFIER. If it gets there, juries will rate this very low on Saturday, but with a high televote due to it’s apparent ‘novelty’ value, will likely finish around 18th.
Spain
Mark’s view
Blanca Paloma – EAEA is Spain’s entry although you’d be forgiven for thinking it’s Morocco’s so strong are the Moorish influences in the song, albeit augmented by an interesting flamenco style clapping bunch of backing singers.
The title ‘EAEA” is slightly moronic and it’s a shame because what we have here is the best song I’ve heard this year in that it is a straight folk song, not trying too hard to be outlandish and is all the better for it.
What we have is a fine vocal performance with a classy video delivery by a very good singer, although I think its folk leanings may not sit very well with the judges. I, on the other hand, really rate it.
Bravo Blanca!
Anna’s View
This is one of my least favourite Eurovision entries of the past 20 years.
The first time I listened to this, I thought the strides and success of Chanel in the face of Spain’s Eurovision struggle had been washed away. I thought they had made the wrong choice – I found this totally inaccessible.
But my view is only that of one. I really appreciate what Bianca is doing – she’s clearly an enormous talent with a strong personal story to boot! The song, is just not for me.
However, people like this. They really like this. This is strongly emerging – as many Spanish entries do given the undying ferocity of the country’s fan-base – as a strong favourite, chasing the leading pack at 4th in the odds. This is an outside, but not impossible, winner on the night. It’s rich sounds, uniqueness and traditional overtones are as likely to strike a chord with the voting public as they clearly have with the fandom. Maybe Spain have made the right choice after all?
But equally, for all the same reasons, people might just not get this. But I’m willing to be proven wrong.
Prediction: Likely TOP 5 in final.
Latvia
Mark’s view
Sudden Lights – Aijā is the Latvian entry.
I’m not certain if it is about suicide by drowning or what but it goes from a rollicking Aha-esque pop song into a sudden last verse despairing plummet where the lead singer is moved from an empty swimming pool, by a bunch of sixth formers, to a bath and essentially drowned while the music dramatically transposes from English to Latvian and the tile, which means lull, corresponds to the ritual drowning.
They then carry him off to a funeral pyre. Although he may not burn ‘cos he’s too wet.
I’m not sure it’s exactly what you’d call a crowdpleaser and may come with a Samaritans phone number to phone after seeing it.
Having said all that. It’s a really good song that could do well with a positive ending.
But me, I like hard core misery so it’s a contender for my points.
Anna’s view
When at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.
Unfortunately, Latvia have been trying again for a very long time and haven’t got anywhere with it. With the honourable exception of Aminata in 2015, their success-rate in qualifying – and doing well – has left us wanting, and I’m sorry to say that this year is unlikely to be any different.
That said, there is a silver lining for Latvia. People adore this song – the performance in the music video is fresh, contemporary and fundamentally cool. It isn’t the most instant on a first listen – which doesn’t bode well in a contest where you only have one shot and three minutes – but when you get it, it’s a pleasant and a robust addition to any background Spotify playlist.
The live performance at Supernova was unimpressively staged – the band gave it their all – but we didn’t see very much that was new. Which rings alarm bells when you need to grab people’s attention to get them to vote. If however, they are able to harness some of the magic and aesthetic from the music video and pull it out of the screen and on to the stage, their could be a route to qualification. But it’s a long-shot.
There’s a song like this every year – fans enjoy it, but when it gets to the crunch of the competition, nobody ends up loving it quite enough.
It’s week two of Anna Aalto’s inspiring Eurovision previews and this week we have the entries from Serbia,
Serbia
Mark’s view
Samo Mi Se Spava by Luke Black is Serbia’s entry and it’s tinged with Eastern promise although Luke’s clearly in Gary Numan’s fan club.
We’re not judging the video which is just as well. Because it honks.
The lyrics which mix Serbian and English are fairly pish TBH. Something about dreaming and sleeping.
But I like its menacing air and overall rate it a top ten finisher.
Anna’s view
Another strong – if bewildering – entry from Serbia, building on the eventual success of Konstrakta and her Latin hand-washing last year.
This song floats between dance and introverted ambient house in a perfect and sometimes unsettling synergy. Luke is expressive and fabulous, and he’s a graphic designer by day, so I’m totally on-side.
This concept house of a performance is a mood board that sits between James Dyson, Georgia O’Keeffe and the Transformers. Emerging from a strange crystallise and dancing amongst a technological umbilical, It wouldn’t look out of place in a window display at Dover Street Market behind the CDGs.
Serbia has a strong and consistent record of qualifying for the Grand Final across a plethora of genres, with a few understandable stumbles along the way. This is certainly not amongst the five weakest performances in its semi-final, but whilst it has a strong hook and a memorable display, it’s a long way off being a challenger for victory. Its melody is not the best, but it’s a definitely not the worst.
Prediction: QUALIFIER. Mid-table in Grand Final. Close to achieving top-10 if it gets a good draw.
The Netherlands
Mark’s view
Mia Nicolai & Dion Cooper bring us Burning Daylight for the Dutch.
It’s middle of the road boring balladry of the sort that gave Celine Dion a bad name and sullies the Eurovision legacy for great pop such as Congratulations, Puppet on a String and Waterloo.
This is so forgettable that I….uhhh….errr. I…
Oh forget it. I already have.
Rank, rubbish from rotten Rotterdam.
Anna’s view
‘Burning Daylight’ is rapidly becoming my song of the year.
On first listen, I have to say it passed me by. The moment I consumed Mia and Dion’s emotive and beautiful music video this song was transformed for me from something of a pastiche to something utterly powerful. It is melancholic, hopeful, defiant, soft, hard – all in three minutes. It might be nostalgia, but this Midwest pop-rock sound transports me back to my university days, listening to Gotye and Nate Reuss, and that’s just luscious for me.
This is what the Dutch do best. This sound has provided The Netherlands with a string of top 10 placings since their return to Eurovision glory with Anouk and The Common Linnets ten years ago. Douwe Bob, Ilse and Waylon, S10, OG3NE, and to a degree winner Duncan Laurence – all followed this highly rewarding template. It’s understated quality.
There’s no doubt that this entry is excellent on it’s own. But there’s also no doubt that it will be the staging, like the music video, that will elevate this entry from good to something special. And given previous form, I have no doubt that The Netherlands will provide something which both enriches and compliments this piece of perfect pop.
In short, I love this on a personal level. But I don’t see this as a winner – it will require other bigger songs to fall, which is not to say it wouldn’t deserve it.
Prediction: QUALIFIER. 11th in Grand Final.
Finland
Mark’s view
Käärijä – Cha Cha Cha
Right. Thank you Finland. Now we are fucking talking.
This is the winner from the opening bass driven beat to the outstanding lyrical complexity of the hook.
It has menace. It has propulsive thrust from the very off.
And oh look how he kicks that pallet apart.
Ooh, I could croosh a grape.
It goes a bit S Club 7 on us for the break and that bit should have bbeen put down at birth but the rest of it is bloody brilliant.
European nonsense at its very finest.
Go Käärijä.
Anna’s view
This is one of the greatest things ever crafted by the hands of humanity. The invention of the wheel, Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel, Finland’s 2023 Eurovision entry.
‘Cha Cha Cha’ sits somewhere between Scottish comedian Limmy, The Human Centipede, a night at the Moulin Rouge and a wrestling match in a farm yard. It’s effectively a song about self-confidence, and getting pissed to get you there.
This extraordinary display begins in some kind of pig pen, with Käärijä growling intensely into the eyes of the viewer, before upon the chorus he’s joined by a squad of dancers who he appears to be tied to with pink rope. What ensues is a lot of screaming which is eventually replaced by a conga and an unmistakably euro-dance beat. It shouldn’t work. But it does. It really does.
This is the perfect Eurovision entry. It is memorable, it’s unique, it’s challenging, it’s competitive. But most importantly it doesn’t fit a mould. This is clearly someone expressing themselves in a way only they know how, and given Finland’s patchy Eurovision record, it seems ideal. It’s also great quality – yes, the performance is novelty, but that’s not to say that the performance is amateur or lack-lustre. It is well constructed, coherent, powerful and he doesn’t put a foot wrong.
This is certainly a televote-friendly song, but for all the reasons I’ve just mentioned, it’s sure to score well with the juries too. This has already been a massive hit in Finland. Could this win? Certainly. However, for everyone that loves it, someone will hate it, and its divisive nature may hold it back from victory overall in the Grand Final.
This will be Finland’s second best Eurovision entry behind Lordi, without a doubt. It may even become their best. I’m up for Helsinki 2024.
Prediction: QUALIFIER (Semi-Final WINNER). Possible winner overall, but most likely 2nd or 3rd in Grand Final, held back only by Sweden and Ukraine, which are more accessible.
In a break from tradition I am joint curating a new strand of Gibberish with the queen of gibberish, Anna Aalto.
Let’s call it Eurogibberish.
She is a bona fide Eurovision expert and she talks plenty of gibberish. I’m simply an engaged and interested hobbyist but an expert in gibberish.
Between us we’re going to run some of the Eurovision 2023 entrants through our cultural and critical lenses in the lead up to the big day in Liverpool in May. So to kick us off we give you Austria, Azerbaijan and Belgium.
Let’s start with Austria
Mark’s view
Who The Hell is Edgar?, by Teya and Salena, rejoices in the fact that it’s Austria’s entry featuring a girl couple and is an ode to gothic horror writer Edgar Allan Poe, who is a ghostly inhabitant of Teya (or is it Salena’s) body.
This is appropriate because it’s a horror show.
It opens badly and grows steadily worse, encompassing the Spanish language for no apparent reason towards its shudderingly bad climax.
If Britney Spears were dead she’d turn in her grave at the appalling choreography that owes its inspiration to Oops I’ve Done It Again.
But forget the dancing, this is a song about possession. But if Teya (or is it Salena) REALLY think this is how Edgar Allan Poe would wish to have been reincarnated they’ve called this very wrong.
“Yeah the words are spilling out, what the heck is this about.” Indeed.
Utter nonsense. Complete pap.
Edgar Allan Poe wrote the Pit and The Pendulum. This is The Fucking Pits and The Pendulum.
Anna’s view
This entry is bizarre. This entry is truly manipulative. This entry might just be enough.
‘Who the hell is Edgar?’ sits within a near-perfect template of Eurovision entries every year that seek to capture every iota of press-attention and social media gargle – and generally do – without being good enough to win. It’s repetitive pseudo-chorus is enough for it to qualify from a Semi-Final absent of any meaningful bite, however it’s frankly deranged and desperate subject matter should prevent this winning. Last year we had Subwoolfer, this year we have Edgar.
Whilst Norway’s social storm last year felt authentic and fun – if a little daft – this similar type of entry seems heartlessly built in order to capture the same kind of emotional and viral sensation. It’s storyline is confusing and inaccessible – it reeks of an idea thought up half-cut in the pub. All that said, it is madly catchy in a Semi-Final with a distinct lack of fun. Most people don’t listen to lyrics, and those who do, will no doubt be manipulated.
Prediction: QUALIFIER – TOP 3 in Semi-Final. 10th to 13th in Grand Final.
Next up Azerbaijan
Mark’s view
TuralTuranX is an 80’s throwback band of twin brothers who look to me like the love children of Paul Young and Mary Berry.
Their song, Tell Me More, has echoes of Glasgow’s very fine Sound of Young Scotland that was the hallmark of Postcard records at the turn of the 80’s and brought us Orange Juice and The Bluebells.
Of course, because it’s written for Eurovision it descends from a height of enjoyable enough, almost tolerable gaiety to sub optimal twaddle by the final verse, but It’s certainly not gonna end up with nil points – that’s for sure.
I expect mid table respectability.
Anna’s view
From a nation who a decade ago treated us to pop-perfection that virtually guaranteed a top five placing on the final table, we receive a truly left-field and unique entry. This is not the Azerbaijan of ‘Drip Drop’ or ‘Running Scared’. Instead, ‘Tell Me More’ sets itself up as some kind of Indie pastiche, that tangibly and eclectically draws on the disparate sounds of Belle and Sebastian, Green Day and Oasis.
This breadth of musical spectra leaves the casual viewer with a song searching for a style. Too abrasive to attract any of the more ballad-inclined, and too half-paced to light up the imaginations of those searching for a banger or two, in a semi-final already loaded with up-tempo tracks. It also feels like this more temperate offering is being used as filler between the more popular and striking entries from Sweden and the Czech Republic, set amongst an army of eight near-sure qualifiers that leaves little room for a less eye-catching entry such as this to manoeuvre in an already crowded field. It may be time to grab another beer to recover from the behemoth of bookies-favourite Sweden.
All that said, we cannot ignore Azerbaijan’s near-perfect qualification record – only missing out on the Grand Final by one place in 2018 – which makes it even more shocking if it doesn’t qualify. In short, the odds are stacked against this entry, which may see it miss out on the final, but probably not by much, because it’s uniqueness may help it stand out from the crowd. If you hated Israel and Sweden immediately before, you’ll probably love this.
Prediction: POSSIBLE QUALIFIER – 8th to 12th in Semi-Final. 18th to 24th in Grand Final.
Finally Belgium
Mark’s view
Gustaph brings us ‘Because of You’ to represent Belgium.
It’s a camp Will Young Eurotrash disco anthem (or he’d want it to be) that actually strikes me as pretty decent. It has a tune for a start which always sets good Eurovision songs apart.
For me this is the sort of song I cheer for on Euro night and, of course, see it come 23rd.
It’s not going to beat Norway (more on that later) but ripped Belgian boys in Jean Paul Gaultier outfits singing falsetto disco are my kinda thing baby.
See you in Liverpool Gustaph.
Anna’s view
Belgium, what has happened?! You were on such a roll.
There’s nothing wrong with this song. I love listening to it – it’s camp, it’s flamboyant, it’s a rare moment of neon sunshine in one of the weakest Semi-Finals we’ve seen at Eurovision in many years.
However, there’s nothing truly right about it either. It’s middle-of-the-road disco sound and predictable lyrics scream of an era of Eurovision long gone, and don’t seem to inspire any call-to-action in the casual viewer.
This is one we’ll all be listening to down the EuroClub, but one we won’t be listening to it in the Grand Final on Saturday.
Too predictable, too forgettable, too dated. The best thing about it is the hat.
We’ve seen it before. The truth is, there are just more striking, impressive, and challenging performances in the competition this year. But Gustaph looks like he’ll be great fun to have around in Liverpool. I hope he enjoys his time!
Well that was a year wasn’t it. A controversial but great World Cup, the Tories entering the Death Spiral and a meltdown summer.
But as regular readers will know this end of year post is all about culture and what I most enjoyed. It’s not “the Best” because that’s impossible to define but it’s what gave me most pleasure.
But before that: family.
Jeana became the most popular knitter in the universe and brought grins to many faces, especially this Christmas. We had a great trip to Italy in September although the first week in Sicily (Palermo especially) was marred by the tremendously stifling heat. Things got a lot more bearable in Puglia, although the town (Trani) was very quiet.
Tom returned from Canada and sat at our Christmas dinner table, not once but twice, The First in Perthshire with his delightful (and highly sarcastic) Canadian girlfriend, Natasha. She really is a great match. The second was at home with family (his first in about 11 years).
In between times he wrote our car off. Oh well. On the plus side I got a fab Christmas gift from him (as Keir called it, The guilt gift). It’s great to have him back.
Ria is doing great in year three of her dentistry degree but SHUT THE FRONT DOOR, she and Keir got engaged and will marry sometime in 2043. We are all so delighted about that. Keir is a son to us, and even more sarcastic than Natasha.
Amy is prospering in London doing amazing nutrition and fitness work and her relationship with Kieran is blossoming. They now live together and we’ve been delighted to spend much more time with him. He is perhaps not quite as vocal as Natasha and Keir but can hold his own, especially when playing Catan!
I had an enjoyable year at work where Whitespace became Dentsu Creative and I looked after a bunch of international clients (including Generali, Amex and Macquarie Bank’s UK spin off).
Turning to culture…
Music
It was a great year for music. Dominated by Inflo and Little Simz. His band, SAULT, released no fewer than 6 albums although only one is now available. You snooze, you lose.
I was beside myself when Little Simz landed the Mercury.
Notable artists for me were led by the Glastonbury experience (my fourth) with Alan where Little Simz and Self Esteem (who was astounding). ruled the roost. Also Confidence Man and Amyl and The Sniffers put on great gigs.
But Warmduscher and PVA were also great at Hidden Door Festival.
Also in music I can’t overlook my Theatre experience of the year which was Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club with Jeana. Truly great theatre.
Another great theatrical music experience was Manic Street Creature at The Roundhouse during the Fringe starring the excellent Munah. Spine tingling drama.
Theatre
What a year for theatre. 51 shows at the Fringe.
Topped by The Silent treatment, Manic Street Creature, Mustard, Waterloo, Sap and Motherload. Every single one of them female (mostly solo) shows and ALL at Summerhall.
Another stunning female performance was Jodie Comer’s in NTL’s Prima Facie and the all women Pride and Prejudice (Sort of) at The Lyceum.
Yet another (and a Fringe First winner) was Breathless at The Pleasance who had, in my view, a particularly strong Fringe. We Should Definitely Have More Dancing had me in bits at Assembly (and guess what, an all female cast).
Laurel and Hardy was another Lyceum stonker in June and Dreamachine at Murrayfield Ice Rink (part of the Unboxed Festival) was so good I went to the out of body experience twice.
Books
Also a great year for books I devoured three Kasuo Ishiguro books.
Motherwell by Deborah Orr was great but maybe the highlight was by Anna Burns in her Booker-winning Milkman, an astonishing and stylised account of the troubles in Belfast, the likes of which you never re-encounter.
I enjoyed Jonathan Coe’s fun but rather slight Expo 58, and Alastair Mackay’s recounting of punk music in Edinburgh, Alternatives to Valium was genuinely original.
Curtis Sittenfeld’s Prep left me desperate for more (she really is a terrific American writer) and an old one that I had missed in Portnoy’s Complaint had me laughing my head off (Phillip Roth).
I reviewed Duck Feet by Scots writer Ely Percy on December 31st last year but didn’t do this summary of the year in 2021 so it gets an honourable mention.
TV
What a year for TV. It just gets better and better doesn’t it.
We are loving Ted Lasso at the moment but other notable TV series were: The White Lotus, This Is Going to Hurt, The Traitor, Industry and, of course, The World Cup.
And again, because I didn’t do this review in 2021, I can’t let the greatest TV show of all time go unmentioned. Succession.
Movies
We didn’t make the movies so much this year. My highlight (unpopular though it is) was Blonde with the astonishing Ana Di Armas as “Marilyn” but really as Norma Jean. Ignore the haters, it’s amazing.
Of course Jodie Comer in Prima Facie gets in here for a second time as we saw it at the Bo’ness Hippodrome – our favourite cinema.
The Banshees of Inisherrin maintains Martin McDonagh’s reputation, indeed enhances it, as one of the greatest directors and, not far behind, in fact equal, was PT Anderson’s brilliant Liquorice Pizza.
I also loved Florence Pugh in The Wonder and David Bowie’s surreal Moonage Daydream documentary.
Also in music territory was Andrew Dominick’s beautiful study of Nick Cave in This Much I know to be True and Elvis is probably Bad Luhrmann’s greatest achievement.
The Year started with Speilberg’s wonderful remake of West Side Story. I loved it.
A big shout out to The Vue for their reasonable pricing policy.
Podcasts
Not such a big podcast year for men but The Rest is politics stole the show by a country mile Matt Forde continues to shine with his Political Party podcast and The News Agents (Maitliss and Sopel) after a tricky start really found its voice. But Alistair Campbell and Rory Stewart left everyone else trailing in their wakes.
Sport
This was shite. My golf was laboured. My cycling jettisoned (but will be back). I got to 56 Munro’s, but partly due to the weather it was a lean second half.
So that’s it. A truly great year in which. I also turned 60 and had some fantastic times with family and friends.
Thanks everyone for being part of my life. Have a great 2023.
Got this for my 60th from my pal Neil Walker. It’s a two part book, sort of autobiography, by Alastair McKay who was a music writer for The Scotsman, Scotland on Sunday and a bunch of music mags.
The first half is about McKay’s upbringing in sleepy North Berwick, a market town about 20 miles from Edinburgh in the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s, frequenting many of the music haunts that I too enjoyed in my youth; The Nite Club, The Hooch, the Playhouse – it explores many of the cultural phenomena of the 70’s, Gary Glitter, Slade, punk, prog rock, Radio Forth, The NME, John Peel – that sort of thing, but with a curious out of town perspective.
He’s shy but he still fronts a punk band. He’s good at English and becomes a reasonably celebrated rock writer and that’s when part two kicks in.
It’s essentially a memoire of his favourite interviews; Dolly Parton, Shirley Manson, Mo Mowlem, Iggy Pop, Red Wedge – it’s a long list. But rather than simply republishing an anthology of said interviews he places them in perspective; both his own and the prevailing cultural perspective.
It’s a great read, that lasted nary a day or two but was a most enjoyable addition to my canon of music reads and I wholeheartedly recommend it to you dear reader.
Keep your ‘lectric eye on me, babe Put your ray gun to my head Press your space face close to mine, love Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!
This lengthy tribute to Bowie, approved by the family, is a masterclass in editing.
It features five main components; archival interviews, mixed quality live footage, clips from his movies, an exploration of his extremely great art and superb animation by Stefan Nadelman that glues the whole piece together.
Opening and almost closing with Hallo Spaceboy from the 1995 album Outside, it may seem a strange choice of song to anchor the documentary but it’s a classic from Bowie’s underrated later years and it thematically pulls together many of his space inspired tunes (Space Oddity, Major Tom and Blackstar) which also presents itself ambiguously, at first in the form of a CGI planet that recurs throughout the film.
The editing is surely Oscar nominatable and indeed the whole film is essentially an exercise in world class editing by its director, producer and editor Brett Morgen (who’s work I am not familiar with).
It’s an immersive experience with a largely chronological timeline, but no narration and is designed to please Bowie fans rather than the uninitiated.
It rocks. It’s great. But if you ain’t a Bowie fan this ain’t for you.
(From the Gingers series at Census by Kieran Dodds)
Only my second stand up gig of the Fringe (I don’t count the excellent Liz Kingsman as stand up). It’s to see a WIP show by Stuart Lee at The Stand. He does not disappoint. It’s brilliant, gasp out loud humour at the cleverness of his mind. It may be WIP but that has little impact on the quality, and anyway he’s been practicing it for three weeks now. His new show is about stand up, and its deconstruction, so far so meta, and it leads to a brilliant ‘sketch’ about Phoebe Waller Bridge and her ‘invention’ of breaking the fourth wall. Truly hilarious. His reminiscence of a 1989 intro sequence is quite brilliant and reappears a couple of times in the show, but interpreted differently and with a touch of genius. Met him after and thanked him. A charming bloke is he.
Then taking in the proximity to the National Portrait Gallery I quickly popped in to see a nice photography show called Census, of which the photo above was my pick of the crop.
(Freely encouraged to capture the action on stage at Work.txt)
I was delighted to attend the Scotsman Awards in the morning at The Pleasance Beyond and to see Manic Street Creature pick up the Mental Health award.
Later I popped over to Summerhall yet again, (my 11th Summerhall show) to see another great production called Work.txt, in which there is no cast and the audience become the performers. So it’s immersive and participative but not much of it is improvised as a very clever and funny script, projected onto a large screen, tells us as audience members, those who love/hate their work, earn more or less than 30k, are Geminians and so on (there’s a lot of ways of slicing and dicing the 100 or so in the room) to read out the next line, build a Jenga city out of oversized Jenga blocks (at one point the entire audience/cast were on stage beavering away.) It’s hilarious. 4 Stars.
(hard at work)
Next up, two Edinburgh Festival shows, The first is by Leith’s Grid Iron Theatre Company, who specialise in site specific work. This one was in Leith Academy and called Muster Station. It’s an immersive show in which the audience are moved around the school (the muster station of the title) as evacuees. Scotland (Fife specifically) has just hit 45 degrees and is about to be hit by a massive tidal wave that threatens our very being. Our destination is Finland. In the opening scene we are herded through an immigration check by a variety of (some kind, some brutal) immigration officers and put into a holding pen whilst some of the characters (some plants) are revealed to us. It’s a high point of the show and promises a great deal more over the next two hours, sadly it didn’t materialise. What we are treated to is five 20 minute plays within plays that fall short of scaring us, lack believability and are actually all a wee bit dull if I’m honest. A great concept that doesn’t quite come off. 3 stars.
Next Up The Jungle Book Reimagined, Akram Khan’s bold multi media show, taking the old jungle book story and again setting it in a post climate apocalypse. The cast are all dancers but there’s also a huge amount of projected animation and a rather cod script played through the PA which the actors lip psych to. The music for the show is diverse but not very joined up so what I felt I was witnessing was an embarrassment of riches, but not much dance (movement sure and very fine movement at that). Act 1 dragged and was frankly a mess. The interval, however, reset the show. Better music, more dance, less animation and a more striking and clear storytelling arc. It’s beautiful, for sure, but it fell way short of my expectations. 2 stars for Act 1 4 for act 2 so a 3 star experience overall.
Hens Teeth’s lovely Love you more. My pick of the day.
I’ve already shared my thoughts on the Dream Machine experience here. (It’s six stars because it’s a once in a lifetime experience. (Although I will be going back to experience it again.)
But I took in a further three shows yesterday. The first, The Chairs, Revisited at The Pleasance Jack Dome by Vagabond Productions is a fucking shitshow. An elderly couple, living 400,000 years in the future in a lighthouse, invite the local great and good to their home to hear an oration from an orator. It’s told in rhyme (loose rhyme). But these visitors are either imaginary or are just not seen to save cost because it would be a cast of thousands. (Have to leave that for for the movie.) Instead the visitors become mime opportunities and they are represented by the chairs they invited to sit on. Many, many chairs gradually populate the stage. It’s fucking bollocks. 2 stars.
Love You More (at Space, Surgeon’s Hall) is ostensibly a female two hander by Bristol’s Hens Teeth Productions is a delightful surprise. In a sea of metaness (like the aforementioned pish) this is a straight up story play about the cool girl at school who befriends the geek and somehow develop a friendship that works. Told in reminiscent flashback it charts the long term relationship between Megan and Charlie in a simple set that doesn’t get in the way of two excellent performances. It’s only 45 minutes long but it’s a little diamond in the Fringe. Last show today so you’ll need to be quick. 4 stars.
Last up, at the same venue we saw Eric Davidson’s Spin We Gaily Daily Ukulele Ceilidh. A truly horrendous title (and very off-putting – it was chosen by a friend) that belies a very good and very funny one man revue show. The spin we daily bit refers to a giant tombola wheel with cryptic song themes (nicked from Elvis Costello) that he spins between songs to choose the next one. What we get is political satire, and very funny it is too. Fairly sweary but no C Bombs and certainly stemming from the left wing. Great entertainment and think he’s transferring to Fringe on the Sea next week. Certainly one to seek out. 4 stars.
You know that feeling? You’re in that sub-Brechtian shizzazzle, but the crowd choice for tonight is either heavy drag or Irish hip hop improv mood.
Sure you do. To be sure.
As the vote is cast I’m in a 20 minute queue for a George Square Guinness (£6.50. Actually fuck off), quietly praying that the Irish hip hopper wins the day.
He does.
Abandoman it is. (At Udderbelly. Or is it Underbelly? Who knows.)
So, nine of us, fresh from good chat and burgers, head off to the Udderbelly/Underbelly tent to meet the darling of Edinburgh’s hip hop improv scene; Mel, clutching her comfortable wooly grey gloves, like her Gran would have adored her for. Little would she know they’d be minor stars of the show.
I’m girding my loins to confess that I once lied to my daughter on a 10k time boast or that the best thing I could come up with on things I’d lost was, “my virginity”. But these secrets remain as I wasn’t thrust centre stage.
Abandoman is a Fringe favourite, and for a reason, he’s great. He does all that Showstopper and Baby Wants Candy do, but he does it on his own. Naked. High risk. It’s a monumental achievement to hip hop night in, night out with no back up. Just him.
(BWC and Showstoppers just do it better though.)
Did I like it? Yes, I laughed out loud many times but there’s something missing in it for me. Some of it in the diction and clarity of the performance and a lot of it in the slightly contrived AI concept behind it. I’ll take Baby Wants Candy first, Showstopper next.
It’s cool. It’s funny. But I’m a fussy twat and this couldn’t clamber over the three star bar for me.
The remarkable Miamuna Memon in Manic Street Creature at Summerhall
And Then The Rodeo Burned dow (at Space Upper Theatre) is a two-hander female meta play about gay cowboy clown. The very funny, and delightful, duo of Chloe and Natasha (https://www.chloeandnatasha.com) popped over from New York (they started out in Maryland) to present this amazing meta, yes meta again – it’s a thing now – and surprised everyone by winning a well deserved Fringe First for this show about Clowns, cowboys, love and arson. It frankly doesn’t complete a narrative arc and so could confuse in act two but it’s a delight from start to finish with some great movement (clowning) make up and humour. But it’s gone. Check out the content on their website though. I think they’ll get pretty well known. 4 Stars.
Happy Meal at Traverse 2, another Fringe First winner suffered from one of its two performers being off sick and iso the playwright admirably stepped in, script in hand, to take their place. It’s a love story about a trans girl becoming a boy and a trans boy becoming a girl in the 1990’s when internet chat is in its infancy. Bursting with tech goodies and featuring a superb intro where one of the cast personally greets all the audience dressed as a (dancing) penguin. It’s high quality stuff but wasn’t my favourite Fringe show by some distance. 3 stars.
Next up The Silent Treatment at Summerhall. Another one woman, autobiographic, show about a professional singer, Sarah-Louise Young, creator of An Evening Without Kate Bush and Julie Madly Deeply, who loses her voice but is forced by ‘the industry’ to keep quiet about it. She tells her tale with the aid of a pink scarf, a microphone and a pair of boxing gloves that all offer her quite incredible puppetry opportunities. Directed with considerable flair on a shoestring budget by Sioned Jones this is one of the finest and most original plays I’ve seen in a long time a solid 5 STARS from me and 6 from Jeana.
And finally we have another 5 STAR performance by Miamuna Memon Called Manic Street Creature at Roundabout at Summerhall. It’s a three hander piece of gig theatre in which Miamuna tells her semi autobiographical story of her relationship with her male partner in Camden town having moved south from Bradford. Not wanting to spoil too much, I’d just say that gig theatre is a big risk because if you don’t like the music you are stuffed. We loved the music and the performance as it transitions from more gig to more theatre throughout the course of the 70 minutes. Suffice to say it’s about mental health and is incredibly moving. Many of the audience were in tears as the story unfolded. But it’s uplifting, thought-provoking, life-affirming entertainment that everybody should see. Truly great.
Having seen five of the six Fringe First winners I am stunned that Summerhall has won nothing yet. Mustard, for sure, didn’t qualify and I don’t know how many of the others i’ve seen here would but I’d have put all of the following Summerhall shows in Fringe First contention:
We should definitely have more dancing moved me to tears.
A big Fringe day and mighty me, what quality.
Let’s quickly gloss over Jo Griffin at Assembly Roxy. A Four star end to her show, but I’m afraid the first 50 minutes struggled to garner two in a totally indecisive stand up comedy set where she wanted to get real dirty but kept getting off at Haymarket. Avoidable.
Then we enjoyed a wonderful dance show at Summerhall called False Start in which four dancers (two of each gender) limbered up in athletics gear to the music of a very good faux Kraftwerk soundtrack (in itself outstanding and something I’d listen to at home regularly). All slo-mo, repetition and systems dancing it was a gripping encounter for 20 minutes but at 45 was just too long. Had it been edited to 25-30 I’d have given it a solid four stars but the length undid it. They were performing a sprint but as a marathon it dropped to three stars.
Megalith started our day at 12:15 at the very Excellent Zoo Southside (I’m expecting great things there tomorrow). It’s a show about copper mining 10,000 years ago and explores the notion that rock (stone) is the source of every piece of technology that we own. It’s described as a theatrical poem. Now, I’m guessing this all sounds a bit wank, but it’s not. It’s a fascinating piece of performance art and I absolutely loved it. Seriously good quality entertainment with Techno, humour, stone circles and danger. 4 stars.
Circus Abyssinia (Ethiopia to you and me) in Underbrelly’s Meadows circus tent is an absolute cracker of a show that nobody could fail to enjoy (we’ll pass over the jugglers). Unbelievable dexterity on roller skates, hula hoops, swings, ropes and has extreme contortionisim and I mean EXTREME. All set to a pounding Ethiopian music bed. It’s brilliant, but it’s a warm venue. Another 4 stars.
The Gods, The Gods, The Gods, in Assembly’s Speigeltent on George Street is great gig theatre in which three performers on separate stages direct the audience to dance as they play an 11 track album that’s based around philosophy, a love story and godlike mythology with a mix of jazz, spoken word, techno and The Streets type rap. It’s engaging, beautiful, incredibly enthusiastic and I fell in love with them. Another 4 star job.
My first standing ovation of the week and the first time I cried was at “We Should Definitely Have More Dancing.” A criminally undersubscribed three-woman header by Oldham Coliseum Theatre in which all three women play the same character, Clara, who has been through a VERY difficult time medically. I’ll not say why because I didn’t know when I went and it’s maybe a spoiler. Anyway, expect tears (many of the audience were visibly moved as the lead actor, Clara Darcy, recounts her real life story, with the help of her ‘sisters’ who take on many roles besides Clara’s). The writing and direction is extraordinary and the story is told in such a confident and beguiling way that any sense of maudlin is excised from the story. I was moved to tears, leaped to my feet at the end and I bow deeply with respect at the feet of Clara Darcy and her co writer Ian Kershaw and directors Tatty Hennnesy and Rab Shaw. A monumental piece of theatre. Thank you and 5 stars no question.
(The view from our magnificent seats in the choir stalls – a rare public treat)
We were priveleged to get tickets to the Festival performance of the Ukranian Freedom Orchestra in the Usher Hall. this is a new full symphony orchestra only put together in the spring and now touring the world. Their four pieces were outstanding especially, for me the opener (Valentin Sylvestrov’s short filmic but massively engaging Seventh Symphony) and the closer (the unbeatable New World Symphony by Dvojak – it’s an absolute belter). Sandwiched between was Chopin’s Piano Concerto No2 (perfectly beautiful but not my cup of tea) and a soprano aria from Aida that was mercifully short. Not gonna star rate this as it’s undateable.
Next up Clive Anderson’s daily podcast show called Seven Wonders where his guest does a desert Island Disc-esque selection of Seven Wonders in their life. His guest was Canadian Comedian Tony Law and very funny it was too. Anderson’s shabby gentleman look contrasted well with Law’s daddy lumberjack aesthetic. A hilarious hour that passed in flash. (wonders included the NFL, Albertan Grain Farmers, His Wife and Mary Beard – who he took to a Who concert). I’d recommend this on a daily basis because you don’t know who you’ll get but the format is familiar but fab.
We then repaired for dinner to the Mosque Kitchen, yes you mosque and Found out that our final show of the day, Johnny Got His Gun was to be replaced with Johnny Got Covid so we all went home.
I opened with The Unicorn. A one Woman Show about sex addiction at The Pleasance. A terrific performance by Georgina Fairbanks who is enthralling as she tells her tale of a descent into sexual indulgences that don’t always go as planned. Graphic but gripping. If only I hadn’t seen Jodie Comer in Prima Facie a few weeks ago this would be a five star show, but it couldn’t quite scale those production heights. A great 4 star opener though.
Next up, Something in the Water at Summerhall. An absurdist exploration of sexuality through the medium of puppetry, projection and squid sex. It’s bonkers. Sometimes very funny but ultimately a little too long. Three stars.
Day one closed with a madcap three person sketch show by the team behind Radio 4’s Soundbleed. Sketch shows inevitably vary in quality but this is mostly at the very highest end of originality and laugh out loud moments. Oh, it’s called Tarot: Cautionary Tales and I give it 4 Stars overall. Very, very funny.
Day two took in six shows.
Materia is a love affair with Polystyrene at Summerhall that is enthralling and I give it 4 stars.
Fire Signs is an award winning Edinburgh University production written by Lana Stone. It’s great and covers young love in a highly amusing way and a decent sized six hander cast (big by this year’s Fringe standards). Also 4 stars.
She/Her is a Brian Cox Produced 7 woman storytelling show with music. It’s not especially challenging but it’s a lovely piece of work directed by and including his wife. It’s femninist in its sensibilities and very much worth your time. Another four stars.
The title of my fourth show at The Assembly Rooms is: Fool Muun Komming! [BeBgWunderful/YEsyes/ Hi5.4sure.TruLuv;Spank Spank:SOfun_Grate_Times]. By some incredible coincidence it’s presented by the partner of the trans person who I saw yesterday in Summerhall’s Something In the Water. Both are bonkers (this one concerns an alien arriving on earth). It’s charming, lovely, funny but too long. So 3 Stars from me.
Number five is the pick of the Fringe for me so far. Motherload at Summerhall. Yet another One Woman Show featuring Mother Nature in an elaborate globe costume. It’s part comedy, with audience participation, (yes I was on stage playing a baby ape at one point) but part horror as she challenges the fragility of her existence. The best thing I’ve ever seen (maybe apart from Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth) on Global Warming in that it challenges and enthrals throughout. My first 5 Star show of the Fringe, and a must-see.
Finally we have Baby Wants Candy, a perenial crowd pleaser in which six actors/singers improvise a musical on the night – in this case Harry Potter and the The Half Blood Prince Albert. Despite not being an HP fan and having only limited knowledge of the work it was hilarious. I might have to go again. Really great entertainment. Another 4 stars.
This is a small but perfectly formed and encyclopaedic anthology of the music scene in Edinburgh, that’s published by Polygon and written by Jim Byers, Fiona Shepherd, Alison Stroak and Jonathan Trew.
It maps out everything of importance in Edinburgh’s music scene from around the 1950’s onwards and captures stories about artists, venues, clubs, records and gigs with a few bizarre tales and factoids thrown in, like where Bowie lived in Edinburgh and that he almost gave it all up to perform in The Brunton Hall’s panto.
It’s beautifully succinct, at an A6 size and just over 100 pages, but it had me hooked.
I’m grateful to my old pal Mike Donoghue for buying me this for my 60th. It passed many fun hours on mu loo in June and July. But alas is complete.
Made by Uncommon Studios, and directed masterfully by Andrew Dominick, this takes the genes of Stop Making Sense and mates it with American Utopia to come up with something that is nothing like either, other than in terms of quality.
The documentary is a potpourri of off camera chat (not that much) and live music. It’s kicked off with a slightly dull and certainly unpromisingly slow ramble through Cave’s new ceramicist career, where he shares his depiction of the life of a devil, before we enter a seemingly derelict church where the magic happens. The church setting is incredibly apse. (That was a church pun).
Cave is the most spiritual (in a religious sense) atheist I’ve ever come across. Many of the songs he performs are studded with religious references, and of course death, as they are drawn principally from Ghosteen and Carnage (the former being the deathly album that was written before the tragic passing of his youngest son).
Cave announced only yesterday the death of his eldest son making the mood and lyrics of the first few songs desperately sad. And, to top it all, his only remaining son (Earl) makes a cameo appearance on Cave’s cellphone in a scene of fatherly love that defines Cave’s meaning of life (a husband, father and friend first, a writer and musician second).
The filming shows its workings throughout. Dollies chase each other round a circular track whilst a Steadycam swoops in and out of Cave’s group. Four strings three backing singers and a drummer (plus, of course, Warren Ellis) but most of all Cave, at his piano.
There’s an air of melancholia about all of this, which is hardly surprising, but the mood gradually lifts before closing out with another lament in Balcony Man.
Dominick is also credited with the lighting which is in many ways the star of the show. Atmospheric, piercing, rhythmically cued to the music. At one point a solo piano piece is matched note for note with the pulsing of a single orange spot. It’s mesmerising.
There’s a little humour, but not much, because what this really is, is a religious experience. A movie of great beauty and unlike any other gig film you will ever see.
Tremendous. And may someone’s God bless you Nick – the tragedy you and your beloved wife have had to endure is just not fair. At least you know millions love you.
Notwithstanding ATG’s outrageous refund policy (we thought we were booking to see Eddie Redmayne and Jessie Buckley but they, and two other Olivier winners, are no longer in the show, but ATG basically just said “tough you booked the show not the performers“) this is a remarkable night’s entertainment albeit at an eye-watering price.
You arrive at the club early (in our case admittance was 7pm) and walk through a golden archway into the lobby of the old Playhouse Theatre that is swarming with performers in gauche attire. You take your free drinks (shots or beer, so don’t get too excited especially when you later find out that wine is £12 a glass) and take in the surroundings. It’s epically risqué and evocative of the pre war libertarian Berlin where Naziism hasn’t yet aired its ugly head.
Next to the theatre itself which has been physically transformed from a traditional Victorian Proscenium arch into an intimate theatre-in-the-round using the full stage and back stage area to create both a seated cabaret section and a 5 or 6 row Grand Circle. Every seat in the house is close to the circular stage which is clearly tiered, although at the beginning it is flat.
The cast and band continue their pre-show entertainment, occasionally inviting an audience member or two onto the stage to dance (this is repeated at the interval) and finally the proceedings begin.
It’s a long Act 1 at nearly two hours, but it flies by as Kander and Ebb’s familiar story unfolds. What makes it so much more thrilling than Liza Minnelli’s splendid movie performance is its darkness. The threat of Naziism hangs in the air menacingly throughout and is considerably ramped up in act two. If Act One showcases the playful side of Berlin nightlife Act Two represents its seedy underbelly with a beautiful evocation of Kristallnacht using a glass wrapped in a dish towel.
Of course, the ensemble is breathtakingly good. Just big enough to fill the stage but not so big that they trip over one another (14 I think).
Five main characters own the show: The Em Cee played by Fra Fee is deliciously decadent, darkly discombobulating and dreadfully Deutsch with his rolling of consonants that could only come from the Fatherland.
Amy Lennox’s Sally Bowles was “even better than Jessie Buckley” our neighbour told us after the show (he’d seen both) and she’s terrific. Her performance of Cabaret at the finale which you can see here had me in tears. In fact it has had the same effect watching again as I write.
Omar Bradshaw as Cliff is as sappy as you could hope for, and proves a perfect foil for the larger than life others.
Vivienne Bradley makes a beautiful and elegant Fraulein Schneider more driven by the “Money that makes the world go around” than her love for the brilliant Elliot Levey as the delightfully old Jew, Herr Schultz. (You know I thought he was 70 but in writing up this review and looking at his mugshot he ‘s actually a young looking 48. So top prize to the make up and costume team.)
As you’d expect, the costumes are magnificent. The band is also superb and look like they are having a ball, proudly sat in the Royal Boxes either side of the stage.
All in all it’s a night of theatrical perfection. Funny, exhilarating and ultimately moving. It’s a must see.
My friend Lisl MacDonald has seen this show live and raved about not, so to my surprise it appeared on Sky Arts last night. I didn’t even know there was a film of it. It’s recorded by Spike Lee at a Broadway Theatre which makes it intense and kind of club like.
It’s a gig, but it’s a theatrical gig with a band of 14 all with their instruments bluetooth connected so no cables get in the way, which is essential because it’s also a dance performance.
All dressed in beautiful mid gray suits and in bare feet, David Byrne himself looks magnificent. Handsome, erudite and with a singing voice that has not aged a day since he first graced the stage of CBGB’s in the mid 1970’s.
The show starts with a chain metal curtain very slowly rising from the stage floor to envelope the stage in a shimmering metallic glow through which performers appear and disappear. It’s highly reminiscent of a show I saw at The Edinburgh Festival a number of years ago called Rosas: Rain, choreographed by Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker, one of the most beautiful contemporary dance shows I’ve ever seen. ( I feel sure Byrne must have seen it and been influenced by it).
YouTube won’t let me embed the link but you can watch a trailer of it here.
It’s the music that lifts this gig from not just outstanding to a level that even exceeds what many acknowledge to be the greatest gig film ever made (Stop Making Sense, incredibly by David Byrne, with Talking Heads).
The only thing this show misses is Psycho Killer, but it has many of Talking Heads’ greatest songs, including my all time favourite, I Zimbra, which has it’s back story interestingly explained by Byrne. ( a 1932 Dadaesque nonsense Poem.)
You’d think a Talking Heads show without the other Heads would lack something. No it doesn’t because the musical accompaniment is outstanding.
Technically it is utter perfection with glorious but understated lighting and sound that is off the scale in its perfection.
The finale is breathtaking and tear-inducing, bringing to a fitting conclusion a show that I will be watching many times in the future.
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