Skip to main content

Get in the Bath.

Today (Sunday), I reached my secret self-enforced mental cut-off point for writing new material to go into next weekend’s Bath Comedy Festival ‘Work in (Hope of) Progress’ dates.

I'm surprised by how much new non-projection based stuff I've accumulated, but I suppose it's no wonder when I think of how few gigs I've been able to use the technology at in recent months. That's not to say there won't be more of it to squeeze into my Brighton and Edinburgh show - there are more than a handful of routines I have in mind for it - though I'd sooner draw a line under what goes into the Bath setlist, than put in too much half-formed half-learnt stuff I won't yet be able to do justice. It’s reassuring though, as it gives me a firm sense of the direction my show will take in the next few months.

My Bath ‘Work in (Hope of) Progress’ dates will be markedly different to Brighton and Edinburgh’s ‘Mostly David Ephgrave’ show, but no less free-standing and self-contained. I want to keep them loose and unpressured, though that doesn't mean they’ll be unstructured. I’m putting in a couple of routines from last year's show to make Bath feel more robust, though, having said that, the nature of the new material nights I've been frequenting recently (that mostly give you only five minutes to perform) have indirectly contributed to the content, resulting in little chunks of story-based stuff that reach a small resolution in and of themselves.

This afternoon, I ran all of the new stuff that's likely to go in, and was pleasantly surprised to find I had just under forty minutes of material to play with, before padding it out with my so-called tried-and-tested stuff. This has definitely heartened me as to what will come over the next few months when I throw in the more tech-based stuff, but it's good to stick to my self-prescribed cut-off point than to try and do too much. I'll now use the next few days to choose the running order for - and tighten up - my Bath set. Now, I’ll stop talking and get on with it.  

Popular posts from this blog

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...