Edinburgh III / IV: The Search for a Voyage Home for Spock.


Two shows have gone by since my last post (I didn’t write a blog yesterday, so there’ll be two winging the internet’s way today), which both felt markedly different.

Saturday’s show had sixteen people in, which made the room feel pretty busy; it’s more than enough to work up a good show with. They were lovely; especially a rather stocky-looking guy at the front, who I for some reason assumed would hate me, though his reaction suggested I couldn’t have been more wrong; proof you should never judge a book by its cover, or a punter by his alpha-masculinity.

Even though I was only a few days in, Saturday felt like a turning point. The show's starting to feel more cohesive and I’m starting to get a sense of the space. Just Out the Box at Just the Tonic is a great room for stand-up comedy of the sort that I stand up and ‘comede’; it’s lovely and intimate, without being intimidating for the performer or the audience. Be it by luck or judgement, the venue I booked into couldn’t feel more appropriate.

I stand by the opinion that an audience who’ve paid to watch a show are usually more attuned to what’s happening than those who haven’t. I say that from experience, having played the Free Fringe a number of times in the past. It’s a fantastic thing with exactly the right ethics, but there’s something about money changing hands – even if it’s just a few quid – that makes it feel like the audience have invested in what they’re about to see. It suggests they’ve at least read the flyer, particularly when they’re at the Edinburgh Fringe, where you can see so many great shows for nothing. I’m always amazed that they’ve sought out me (even if they only decided this a few minutes before they walked through the door), but I'm very grateful for it. Knowing they have takes the pressure off a little psychologically.

This morning’s show was harder, but this was by no means the fault of the audience. Admittedly, I only had four in, but that’s still good when so many great performers have had to cancel for less. The sticking point was me: I got to the venue a later than I wanted – I hadn’t had the best night the night before, which slowed me down – picking up the money to pay my flyerers on the way, and consequently forgot to bring my show notes. This meant I had to run back to my digs and return to the venue within a ten-minute window before my show was set to begin. I got back on the dot of midday, sweating like a beast (my flat is three floors up, accessible only by a mediaeval turret-like circular flight of unforgiving stone stairs); consciously starting the show five minutes late, to give myself the chance to catch my breath. This meant I had to cut bits here and there to ensure I ended by 1pm, which made me feel a little back-footed. Note to self: idiot check your bag before you leave the house / flat / castle / digs.

Popular posts from this blog

Shakerpuppetmaker.

Image
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...
Read more

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...
Read more

Hoo-ray and up She Rises.

So much has happened since my last post in March that this blog risks sounding like an itinerary. The main news is that Hitchin Mostly Comedy will return in the summer at a new venue, the Queen Mother Theatre . The road to this decision was convoluted, though enough fell into place en route to leave me optimistic about this new start. The catalyst was a survey I ran via our mailing list a few months back, in which I asked, "If the club returned in the current climate, with tickets still around £15 (and with similar line-ups), would you still attend?"; the response to which, in simple terms, was a resounding yes. Nearly 250 mailing list subscribers responded in a single week, with around a hundred also taking the option to leave some feedback. And only two people were abusive, which counts as a win when you consider they posted their comments online anonymously. Imagine how many more insults we would have received if the comedy club was a woman. Particularly if she was Diane ...
Read more