Brighton the First.

I'll keep it brief, as I've got to get up in a couple of hours to get the train; such are the unsociable hours of a performer.

Tonight saw my first proper performance of '...and Ephgrave' on the Brighton Fringe. I have to say I enjoyed it. I don't HAVE to say I enjoyed it, in fact, but I still will. The initial set-up was stressful, due the usual problems I associate with doing a show in a Free Fringe venue. While they do a wonderful thing, and I'm exceptionally grateful for the opportunity, it's always a little fraught when you're playing a space with no technical support. I spent at least an hour and a half trying to work out which channels worked on the two desks at my disposal. As someone who's reasonably technically proficient and still struggled, I dread to think what it would be like if you had no idea how anything worked.

Thankfully, I had my friend Stephen there to assist me. It was nice to have the moral support, particularly after the last two days of travelling there and back on my own with no company. It's nice to have someone with you both for your sanity, and also for practical assistance, when you have to wrestle with projectors and gaffa tape leads to the floor.

A huge bonus was I was allowed to use the projector and screen that are rigged in the space. This cuts out a lot of set-up and pack down time. It also helps that I'm first in the space every day, despite the varying start times, so have no-one there in front of me.

Tomorrow will be a long one. I have to catch the train at 8:30am to get to Brighton for my show that starts at 12:45pm, and I'm then doing a spot as part of Laughing Horse's Pick of the Fringe at 8:15. As it stands, I probably should have left Brighton sooner today - but it was nice to have a wind-down with Steve and another friend - the comic Jack Hope - who had come along to see it.

Now, it's time for bed, if I can just convince my cat to vacate my lap. Oh...pets.

Shakerpuppetmaker.

Have Parker from Thunderbirds and Noel Gallagher ever been seen in the same room? The resemblance is uncanny. So much so, I think something’s afoot. If my suspicions are correct, I've stumbled across a secret that will blow the music and puppet industry wide apart. In the mid-60s / mid-90s at least. It doesn’t take long to see the signposts. There’s the similarity between the name of Oasis’ first single, Supersonic, and Supermarianation, Gerry Anderson’s puppetry technique. The Gallagher brothers would often wear Parkas . Live Forever was clearly a reference to Captain Scarlet and Standing on the Shoulder of Giants to the size difference between Noel and his bandmates. The more you think about it, the more brazen it gets. It’s fishier than Area 51, Paul is Dead and JFK's assassination put together. The only glitch to the theory is scale . According to Wikipedia, Anderson’s marionettes were 1’10” and Gallagher is 5’8”. How does he maintain an illusion of avera...

'...I'm Gonna Look at You 'til My Eyes Go Blind."

Over the past week or two, I’ve been on a bit of a Sheryl Crow kick, largely thanks to rediscovering her cover of one of my most-liked Bob Dylan songs. She has one of my favourite female voices, yet despite this, I only own one CD and that’s just a single (her '97 release ‘Hard to Make a Stand’); on that basis, you can only imagine how much of her back catalogue I’d own if I hated her (it would fall into minus-figures). Dylan, conversely, takes up more of my collection than anyone else, save The Beatles and Paul McCartney’s solo work. He’s one of those artists who, when you get him, you really get him - and once I’d tuned into his style as a student, I'd time and again be blown away by his lyrics; he’ll have more jaw-dropping imagery in one track than other people fit in a whole career. These days, I mostly listen to music in the morning when getting ready, and more often than not, this will consist of a suggested YouTube playlist when I’m in the bath, r...

Stevenage: A (Tiny) River Runs Through it.

If ever a river was mis-sold, it’s the Roaring Meg in Stevenage. I just walked past it on my way to the retail park that has taken its name. They’re similarly uninspiring. The river is less of a roar and more of a dribble; cystitis sufferers produce greater flow. The retail park is soulless. What was once a thriving enterprise is nearly devoid of atmosphere, save an underlying essence of emptiness and despair. With a Toys R Us. When it was first built I was excited. Back then, the thought of a bowling alley, an ice rink, a Harvester and a Blockbuster Video within a small surface area was enticing. I celebrated many birthdays on site. There was an indoor cricket pitch there for a while where I once had a joint party with a friend. Why someone with an almost pathological fear of sport would agree to such a venture is beyond me, but I did it. Now, there’s very little at the Roaring Meg of note. The river would be a metaphor for the shopping ce...

mostly david ephgrave

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