First of all, yes I am writing this during the post-fringe Back-In-Holland emotional crash that always accompanies leaving the Edinburgh Fringe (and my leaving Britain in general). So it's a couple of days out of date. But you're just going to have to deal with that. Currently, I'm feeling slightly better than I did yesterday and the day before. It may be a Holland thing, but it tends to happen. I currently feel a bit better. So much better, even, that I wrote this mutha. Don't take it in all at once.
23rd
August
I cut my teching of Paco's
show short to watch The Lumberjacks perform at the Assembly
Rooms with my friend mister Alexander Bennett (great stand-up and
character actor). I was there in time. Especially since there was a
slightly scary lady at the Counting House I had no interest in
dealing with any further, so I skedaddled. The Lumberjacks'
performance (for which I had tickets due to underhand comp-dealing
with one of the three Canadians performing after Brendon Burns's
show) was however slightly ruined for me, having to sit next to the
loudest person in the world. It was actually not that she was loud
per se, but it was something in the amplitude of her laugh that was
utterly painful for me to sit next to. I was in agony, shielding
myself as well as I could from the producer of those sounds. Myself
and Alexander did enjoy the night (including a surprise appearance
from Tony Law who was wonderfully devisive in the big room he found
himself in) as much as we could physically stand. After the show, I
was near tears, some people approached Alexander and me, jocularly
asking whether I was allright, with the smug superiority of random
sitting arrangements. I might have tinnitus now. At least I know who
to sue if I do. Alexander and I said our goodbyes and I made my way
back home.
24th
August
I had an early
appointment with my friend Jane, for breakfast at the Edinburgh
Larder and the final interview for the podcast. Unfortunately, I
slept straight through our 10 AM meet-up and awoke only when she
phoned me to check whether I was still alive. I was, so I rushed a
shower and ran down to Blackfriar's Street. There wasn't enough time
to do the interview then, for she had got us tickets to see Tam
o' Shanter, the Robert Burns musical
'Extravaganza'. I'd met one of the actors in the show in the queue
for Daniel Kitson several days previously and noted my interest to
Jane. She then bought us two tickets at Assembly at the Mound (so
many Assemblies this Fringe! And I never even went to George Square,
other than to tut at the gaudiness of it all). Back on topic: Tam
o' Shanter was
the first musical I've enjoyed in ages. Scratch that, this
was the first musical I think I've ever enjoyed. Even though all of
it was in Scots, about a poet's works I know next to nothing about,
concerning things I have scant knowledge of at the best of times
(including the mess that was the Jacobite rebellion and issues of
Scottish identity I still have to explore more deeply), I really
enjoyed it. The acting was closer to comedy acting than Musical
theatre, making it a less top-heavy experience, with some brilliant
singing and a great sense of occasion and fun (and that at noon! At
the Edinburgh Fringe!).
After that show,
Jane and myself recorded the final interview for FringeReview to
publicise her show Arguments and
Nosebleeds on the steps of the
University of Edinburgh Divinity offices. I argued that Divinity was
a priori useless and stupid, so no-one in their right mind would care
if we'd block the door for a bit. It was a fun interview, including
some point blank poetry from Jane, which was brilliantly sporting of
her. I saw a tiny flicker of 'I should take you round the back and
shoot you for this' in her eyes. Completely deserved, naturally. But
she did very well. Listen to episode 8 and you'll find out for
yourself!
25th
August
The first of two early
rises for me, I had to be out, up and running by 10 to get to Paco's
ridiculously scheduled 11AM extra performances of his show at the
Counting House. I wasn't even that late, though only 13 people showed
up, which enabled Paco to do his show without amplification. That
meant I could go into the audience and have a bit of a lie down. I've
been hit with the curse of the techie in that I could probably
perform his show about being German easily myself, with the one
caveat that I'm actually not German. Probably not a good idea. I
won't, I won't. Don't worry.
After that, I'd got
a ticket for an extra show David o'Doherty was doing at Pleasance
One. I'd been trying to see him for 3 years without success. This
time I did get in, and I loved it. The show was mainly about the
breakup of a relationship and his subsequent breakdown into Domino's
Pizza and playing Frisbee Dog on his own, in the middle of the night,
in his pants. He surprised me, by often sailing close to the sadness
that may not have been as 'done and dealt with' as Felicity Ward told
me hers had been for her show The
Hedgehog Dilemma.
O'Doherty was still supremely funny, especially when he was not
playing his tiny Yamaha keyboard, but doing stand-up in the
technically speaking more mainstream version of 'standing up holding
a microphone in one of your hands'.
I had my first gig in a
while today, a spot at Davy Mitchell's Stand-Up Sit-Down gig at
Anderson's, in the New Town. I had prepared and everything. I'd sat
in a Costa for a number of hours to calm my nerves with what was only
my second Cinnamon Latte of the Fringe.
The gig itself went OK,
seeing as I had to go on early to still make it to Paco's evening
show. There were some titters here and there from the small audience,
but nothing more. I probably was too rushed and didn't really make a
connection to the audience. Then I had to leave, with Davy saying he
looked forward to seeing me again tomorrow. I did get my new facebook
profile picture taken then. So not all for nought. However, I had no
time to revert the adrenaline of being on stage in front of some
people who didn't really care that I was there- into anything
helpful, so I just ran my face off until halfway up the Grassmarket,
where I realised that I'd have at least another 15 minutes until I
had to be at The Counting House. The staff there were more vigilant
than I'd ever seen them, so I felt I couldn't really do my job, but
afterwards realised I'd probably had been hyperactive myself, so
didn't make such a cool and collected impression on them as I thought
I'd had.
26th
August
The second early morning
proved more winning, since we had more than double the audience of
yesterday's morning gig. Boom! Which was good. It was a nice
atmosphere and -again- a lovely gig.
I teched Arguments
and Nosebleeds today, once more
since I had done exactly that 5 times at last year's fringe and twice
at the fringe the year before. The Gothic Room in the Free Sisters
was pretty full, especially for a midday poetry gig. I say teched, I
just fiddled about with the lights and mic for a bit until Robin said
it was fine. The show itself was lots of fun, Jane was very good, and
so was Chris (who was closing after their first special guest had
pulled out). Cat, the special guest they found on the trot was
actually on her way back to London, nearly on a train when Jane and
Chris found her and got her to guest on their show. I filmed her Neil
Armstrong poem, and also the rest of her set- on her phone. So the
wonky camera-work you're seeing, that's my handiwork right there.
I thought I'd have a
bit more time to myself today, before my second gig, I didn't. I ran
to Anderson's and again, hid in the corridor. The book I was reading
at the time was The Unbearable Lightness
of Being.
This would of course never defend me from endless accusations of my
infinite ponciness.
Jane
was at this gig, but two thirds of yesterday's audience. I could only
really step off of the small stage and just chat to the individual
audience members, which I learned is really the only thing you can do
in that situation. I also seem to have ended up on the table that an
elderly couple were sitting behind, singing 'Je T'Aime, Moi Non Plus'
with the table nearly tipping over. That was a good gig.
Paco's
final show was massively full, as always. It was so much fun working
for him for a month. It gave an impetus to my day and I'd learned a
lot from him. That was something I didn't tell him that night,
because straight after the show, Jane and I had some lovely dinner at
the Bistro opposite the Counting House.
27th
August
My first actual day off in
a very busy Festival month started with me sleeping like a beast, for
13 hours. This was undeniably a very enjoyable part of the day.
I saw Simon Munnery
for the second year in a row, doing his show Fylm-Makker
with the lovely Lizzy Mace, off of Mace and Burton (known to everyone
who's listening to the podcast). I'd seen comedians working with ST
video before, notably Kommil Foo in a very early stage of their show
Wolf,
but Munnery was way better. Non-stop funny, the best I think he's
been since the days of The League Against Tedium. The 101ers song
from last year also made an appearance, but now I could actually
understand the lyrics (always important in comedy songs).
The
second show I saw today was Sammy J and Randy's The
Inheritance,
which was to the same amazing standard as last year's Rickett's
Lane.
And I should know, they used one of my quotes in the Brett Vincent
flyer-booklet-thing (not on the poster, unfortunately. But still,
hey? Dare to dream). I could be a reviewer if I wanted to... Second
thought no, thank you.
I then
had a lovely pizza with Paco down the Canon's Gait, a final
get-together with the One-Eyed-Men in their flat in the West End and
I had my first proper gander around Brook's Bar at the Pleasance
Dome. It was mostly press people, but I did meet some friends I
hadn't seen for a while, like Joe Wells (who seems to be doing very
well for himself. Go him! … Nope, no vestigal jealousy this time)
and had a chat with them. I didn't stay long, because I'm a twat
after 11.30 and have to go to bed like a child or an old man.
Something between the two but still childish and smelly.
28th
August
The Fringe seemed to be
pretty much over today. So I was happy to lounge about for a bit, do
some cleaning in the flat and then leave for my gig at the Stand in
Glasgow. A few days previously, I'd wandered into the Stand offices
in Edinburgh and told them I was leaving the country, so I was
curious whether they'd start doing their new act night again? I was
told that they did, but in Edinburgh not until the next Monday. But
they did have a reserves list for Newcastle on Wednesday and Glasgow
on Tuesday. I opted for the Glasgow one, because of cheaper train
tickets Off Peak Return. And whaddaya know, on Sunday I was phoned
with the message that someone had pulled out and that I could do 10
at the Glasgow Stand! Booyah!
This required some train
travel. I, of course, was offensively early and had all the time in
the world to reacquaint myself with the wonderful notion of British
based rail travel. The sights, the smells, the somehow inescapable
sense of melancholy that seeps through every train station in Britain
(with the exception of the big ones in London like Victoria, King's
Cross and Euston). When living in Brighton, I always loved getting on
the train to gigs (almost as much as I loved coming back from gigs,
triumphant). The view would almost always be beautiful in some way.
At least there'd be something to look at, which is more than you can
say about any train journey at all in Holland, which is just plain
empty. I was charmed by the station names being in Gaelich as well as
English as we trotted through the Borders.
As I got to Glasgow
Central, Jane was there to meet me, and we walked up Sauchiehall St,
as we'd done more than a year previously, down to the Stand. The room
was sold out, which was more than I'd bargained for. 300 people in a
small room (I was lucky to get Jane in) just for some new acts or
older acts doing new stuff. I was to do 10. I was nervous as fuck.
The compère seemed very chilled out though: 'You'd have to be
fucking shite to die in this room, they're just a lovely crowd.' At
those moments, I become convinced of my innate shite-ness. I was to
close the first half. Three guys went on before me, one very brave
soul doing his first ever gig. I congratulated him, after which, for
no apparent reason, the tension left my shoulders. I could breathe
normally again. I was in gig-mode. No need for all the physical and
vocal warm-ups that made me look like a twat in the green room. I was
called on, did about 9½ in which I pretty much improvised my new
first 2 minutes to every single show I'm doing in Scotland or Ireland
ever again, did some very niche, literary stand-up about death and
sex, took out Dr. Johnson, said 'It's Dr. Johnson', got no reaction,
shrugged, put Dr. Johnson back into my bag and got a laugh, only
realising the penile pun half an hour after my gig was over.
Everything worked, I got off sparkling. One of the best gigs I've
ever done in the best room I've ever done one in. Amazing. Very proud
and very grateful to the Stand for allowing me this brilliant end to
my month in Scotland. After the two girls I'd met up with in the
station who'd been at my gig had left (no funny business there) I sat
back, and just realised how happy I was with the job I was doing, and
realised that I'd just had to stick with it, until either I broke it
or it broke me. In short, me and stand-up are definitely In a
Relationship. Good times.
29th
August
After some cleaning,
I saw off James and Luke to their train ride back to London (I
somehow missed a lot of the others due to being asleep or just not
running into them). I climbed Arthur's Seat today as well, after rain
showers seemed to make it pretty much impossible for most of the day.
Also, I made some pretty spicy pasta about which I have a story to
tell (come to my gig on September 12th
to hear).
30th
August
I packed (again),
repacked until I was absolutely sure I could fit in all the books I'd
bought up here into my bag so I would only have hand baggage. I
waited in Starbucks for a few hours, reading, drinking coffee and
retrying their strawberry/cream frappuchinno myself and Josh had
enjoyed two weeks previously (how time flies). I met up with Alice
from Witness Theatre
(know your podcasts, guys) before I'd took the bus to the airport.
Which pretty much concludes my blog-series about Edinburgh 2012. I'd like to thank Zoe Fell, James Hamilton, Jess Duxbury, Jane Overton, Erhard Hübener, Diane Fitton, Davy Mitchell, The Stand, Paul Levy, All of Casual Violence, The One-Eyed Men, Alexander Bennett, Josh Crisp, Jamie Hunt, Lana Harper and all of the people we interviewed/whose shows I saw or came to see me. Keep your eyes peeled for more written work of mine or gigs near you.
Love,
xxx
Jorik
