mostly david ephgrave

While writing my new show's progressing reasonably steadily, in my heart, I know it needs to be the last project I do alone for some time. I guess it was my choice - though it often doesn't feel like it - that most things I do now are self-generated, but they all leave me needing to draw on a reserve of self-belief that's fragile at best. I have to ignore so much negative reinforcement to keep going, which is hard when the personal problems I've suffered have much the same impact. The truth is that what I do is increasingly lonely, and isolation triggers the false narratives my past can dredge up. I think my abandonment issues are understandable, but it doesn't stop them from dragging me back. And recent events in my life have reinforced my lack of self-worth, making it harder to ignore them. I didn't deliberately set out to be a solo performer. I was in a band and a double act and sought healthy collaboration. And while being an actor inevitably requires forgin...

The big news is I'm taking a show to Edinburgh this year, and I'm trying to get as much of the admin sorted as swiftly as possible so I can clear time to write it. As it stands, I'm creaking toward that kicking-off point. The show will be about my dad (the one slated for 2020 until Covid hit and put paid to that), and I'm excited and apprehensive about the task ahead. There's so much I want to get across - as my pages of scribbled notes already testify - but primarily, I want to capture my dad's character so that the audience leaves the room feeling like they just met him, which is no mean feat. And I want to tackle what's it like to lose a loved one without forgetting that the show's a comedy (which, as far as challenges go, is worthy of fully spandexed Anneka Rice). What's helped so far is the groundwork I did in 2020. For example, I already had a blurb that just needed tightening up. And I've also got a lot of material about him already, which...

Part of the reason I've been silent for a while is my attention is so divided. For nearly two years, I've been trying to push through the sale of my flat as it limped along for a variety of reasons, not least the pandemic's impact. Finally, we're potentially a few days from completion, which is hugely significant as it will draw to a close a stressful process that should also help create some closure from the issues it brought up from my past. And both points are sorely needed. Meanwhile, a different type of closure threatens Mostly Comedy. Trying to keep enough money in the kitty to cover our costs as multiple shows are cancelled or postponed for all manner of reasons has proved difficult; if it weren't for a generous donation via JustGiving last month, we would have folded. Frustratingly, sales were picking up for next week's gig when we had to postpone it to May due to a sickness in the line-up (which sounds like the proclamation of an apocalyptic preacher). ...

I was holed up in my office today while the Royal Wedding took place, knuckling down on material for this week’s work-in-progress dates. Despite starting the day a little panicked by it all, I managed to have quite a productive day, I managed to write a short piece that has the potential to completely alter the direction for the show as a whole, and while I certainly won’t have time to instigate this change in tact before this week’s gigs, it’s at least injected some much-needed energy into proceedings and made me feel a little better about the whole thing. As I’ve said a couple of times lately, the hardest aspect of it all is keeping motivated when I’m largely an operation of one. I’ve not been having the best time recently and could do with a confidence boost from an outside source, instead of always having to encourage myself. I have a few plans to combat this, plus I have my PR, so hopefully this will help; I’m bored of thinking about it, reall...

The song that turned things around when my old band Big Day Out became a three-piece and told us we could continue without our lead guitarist (and one-time driving force) was this: Prior to his leaving, I didn’t have much confidence in my ability as a songwriter or a front-man. While I’d co-written a lot of the material with him, I'd never felt comfortable with our partnership, mainly because I was intimidated by his ability. He was always coming up with ideas he was hugely cocksure about (which is intended as a compliment), and while there was a crossover in our musical taste, I was more into songs that were truthful while he was more motivated by a good riff.   His leaving was ultimately a good thing as it cleared the field and took away my fear. The three of us who remained were on the same page and shared the same sense of humour. It gave us a burst of energy that could have driven us to great things if the tours I took when I left drama school hadn’t got in the w...

It wasn’t until I posted a Facebook st atus yesterday rounding off my last performance of Mostly David Ephgrave (not to be confused with my blog of the same name) that I realised how many places I’d performed it. This matches closely with my constant assumption that whatever I've done is not enough. For some reason, I easily forget things that offer credence to my work and push examples of what I haven’t achieved to the forefront. I’ve been lucky when it comes to acting and actor / muso work over the years and pretty active with my comedy stuff - both with Glyn and on my own - yet I regularly enter shows thinking I’m not the ‘real deal’ (whatever that is). I’ve written this many times here before, so I won’t over-egg it now, but I often feel like a blagger, and take what others might see (to some degree) as versatility as an example of not being good at just one thing. Whatever the case, seeing the list of places I performed my second solo stand-up show (a...

Tonight’s Leicester Square Theatre gig was just what I needed to give me the boost to get myself back on the case with my solo stand-up. For one, it was nice to be in a proper venue with the appropriate tech set-up, rather than having to take everything with me; I’ve grown tired of spending the majority of my journeys into town resembling a comedic pit-pony, carrying more equipment than any one man should ever be lumbered with, with my wife roped into the deal, lugging a load of gear as well. Not only does this make you sweaty and stressed, it zaps half of the energy you need for the show, making it all the more likely you take any of the problems you had in getting to the venue (and setting up the space) into your performance; it’s a shitter of the highest level, and one I’d sooner avoid from now on if I can. I was fortunate to have the assistance of Mostly Comedy’s technical wizard Paul Willianms tonight, which made things easier; it was good to ...

It’s hard to find the drive to commit to seeing a run through to the end when you’re rehearsing a solo show alone for your own benefit. I’ve made a point of going over my Edinburgh show once a day for the past two days to keep it in mind for the dates I’m doing later on this month - and while today’s run felt a lot better than yesterday’s, it’s very easy to go off the boil when you’re talking to no-one for an hour. Not only is it tempting to stop when you’re doing it, you can also start to lose faith in the content. Again, today’s rehearsal felt a lot less like this than yesterday’s, as I made a point of taking my time with the material so I could connect with it, but even when doing this, the lack of feedback can make the whole thing seem desperately unfunny if you let it. I guess the key is not overthink and / or over-rehearse it; to do just enough to make sure you still know it, without getting bored with it. I’m on holiday next week, so...

I’m feeling a slight flush of confidence, having just watched a clip of me trying out some new material at last Thursday’s Mostly. If you think that sounds arrogant, then you don’t know me well. In reality, I’m my own worst critic (however much Steve Bennett would like to steal my crown). Nothing I do is ever good enough. When something goes well, I still manage to find what I perceive to be the least successful aspect, and fixate on it. If I’m in a particularly destructive mood, I’ll sabotage my performance from the inside, by deciding it’s going awfully and making it known. (“Give us a gig.”) The irony is that no-one seems to notice. Even my most disparaging reviews tend to say I look confident. Maybe my lack of faith in my ability is normal and I’m just giving myself a hard time. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I wish I could take on board that I’m not always as bad as I think I am and that, maybe fleetingly, I might occasionally be good. ...