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green_amber.. is always a little how the end of the Fringe feels. And this year's it's redoubled: it's been 4 weeks in which, I think, incredibly, I've been out, away or entertaining visitors for every night but two: vistors, Worldcon, visitors, Fringe, Serenity and Joss, visitors, Fringe. La vie en rose, the circus finally packing up and leaving town. Literally in the Bongo Club where we went to see Robert Newman tonight, and after they were stacking up the chairs. Ed began picking up abandoned plastic beer glasses. "It's what I do in the Forest cafe," he said helplessly. Time for everyone to pack up and go home. Newman , proponent of non hierarchical anarcho syndicalist eco-prot groups, would have wholly approved, as long as they didn't leave by car, I suppose. Me, I'd have approved more if he told more jokes to go with his historical reminiscences on Bush-Blairite imperialism in the Middle East - in a few years he should naturally evolve into a ukelele playing history lecturer, one feels, but will his wallet allow it? Stand up after all surely pays better than academe (tho Phil Kay's wardrobe may have spoken otherwise).
The theme of my Fringe though, has been not Iraq, not G8, but those selfsame ukeleles. My highpoint of the whole festival was the gloriously named Anarchy in the Ukelele , the "only profesional ukelele orchestra in the UK" and as good a kick in the ass to the Radio 3 listening classes as you're likely to see - run don't walk to buy a ticket if it comes near you. Worth the entry just for the bit when they demonstrate how 6 popular beat combo hits, m'lud (Fly Me to the Moon, Life on Mars, I Will Survive, Hotel California) et al) are all ripped off from the same bit of Handel. Meanwhile Mr Newman (cf, supra) did a special guest star spot with his ukelele at my *other* Fringe highlight, the Bill Bailey punk rock tribute band, Beergut 100. What really scared me about that was that the audience was a real mixed bag; two thirds balding, beardy ancient-heavy-metal-band tee shirted oldies, and one third or less hip young things in obscure manga black t-shirts. It was hot and a bit crowded in Teviot .
"Well I expect the oldies have come because they watch Black Books," I said blithely, "while the young uns have come for the gig. So it should clear out a fair bit once he's done his 15 mins of stand up at the start."
I had it exactly the wrong way round.
It was the young uns who'd seen Black Books - the oldies had come to POGO. That was me that was, I realised with sinking heart. My generation. I can only hope that no-one could tell . Wandered into the Late n Live bar between songs for a gin n tonic, found a gaggle of famous stand up comedians discussing their walk on parts. "So what are you doing?" "Oh, only back up vocals on White Riot." Michael Ashley, though shouldst have been there at this hour.. It was enormous fun, and I came out feeling more awake than I had for several weeks. Bill Bailey, you are The Man.
Apart from that, just like the Perrier award committee, I declare Stand Up DEAD. Monosyllabic martial arts and percussion shows are where it is at: everyone I know has been going to things called Tao!, Jump!, Stomp!, Brush! and probably Barf!. No, Jump! was great actually - Olympic standard Korean gymnasts , tumbling across the stage with Jackie Chan clowning thrown in, and not even stopping to towel off the sweat before leaping backstage to sell and sign programmes. Amazing. Another show that made you feel energised not depleted.
Traditional Worst Show Seen on Fringe So You Know Better Next Time: the Trachtenberg Family Slideshow Players. Never, ever, go to a show just because someone, somewhere, has mentioned it on LJ and the act has the same surname as Dawn from Buffy: this way lies ennui. No talent, no skill, no singing or playing ability, and one joke, namely that the 70s were a bit naff. Who's ever thought of that before, huh?
And I've written all this 'cos the still not fixed (when exactly huh? when!) wacked out hot tap is homeopathically filling my bath: I'm sure the water level creeps asymptotically towards fillness, never quite getting there. Of the holy trinity of cat-food, loo roll and milk, I now have all 3, but I've just run out of cat litter. My video timer has given up the ghost entirely, my Outlook Express won't delete mail anymore, neither will the digital camera (delete, that is), my gas bill hasn't been paid for several lifetimes, and John Lewis only sells one video recorder in these our days of the new millennium and I don't think it had Video Plus. Entropy Rules OK. The world is too much with us: late and soon, getting and spending on Fringe tickets, we lay waste our powers..
Next: running a Privacy Workshop for fun and profit..
The theme of my Fringe though, has been not Iraq, not G8, but those selfsame ukeleles. My highpoint of the whole festival was the gloriously named Anarchy in the Ukelele , the "only profesional ukelele orchestra in the UK" and as good a kick in the ass to the Radio 3 listening classes as you're likely to see - run don't walk to buy a ticket if it comes near you. Worth the entry just for the bit when they demonstrate how 6 popular beat combo hits, m'lud (Fly Me to the Moon, Life on Mars, I Will Survive, Hotel California) et al) are all ripped off from the same bit of Handel. Meanwhile Mr Newman (cf, supra) did a special guest star spot with his ukelele at my *other* Fringe highlight, the Bill Bailey punk rock tribute band, Beergut 100. What really scared me about that was that the audience was a real mixed bag; two thirds balding, beardy ancient-heavy-metal-band tee shirted oldies, and one third or less hip young things in obscure manga black t-shirts. It was hot and a bit crowded in Teviot .
"Well I expect the oldies have come because they watch Black Books," I said blithely, "while the young uns have come for the gig. So it should clear out a fair bit once he's done his 15 mins of stand up at the start."
I had it exactly the wrong way round.
It was the young uns who'd seen Black Books - the oldies had come to POGO. That was me that was, I realised with sinking heart. My generation. I can only hope that no-one could tell . Wandered into the Late n Live bar between songs for a gin n tonic, found a gaggle of famous stand up comedians discussing their walk on parts. "So what are you doing?" "Oh, only back up vocals on White Riot." Michael Ashley, though shouldst have been there at this hour.. It was enormous fun, and I came out feeling more awake than I had for several weeks. Bill Bailey, you are The Man.
Apart from that, just like the Perrier award committee, I declare Stand Up DEAD. Monosyllabic martial arts and percussion shows are where it is at: everyone I know has been going to things called Tao!, Jump!, Stomp!, Brush! and probably Barf!. No, Jump! was great actually - Olympic standard Korean gymnasts , tumbling across the stage with Jackie Chan clowning thrown in, and not even stopping to towel off the sweat before leaping backstage to sell and sign programmes. Amazing. Another show that made you feel energised not depleted.
Traditional Worst Show Seen on Fringe So You Know Better Next Time: the Trachtenberg Family Slideshow Players. Never, ever, go to a show just because someone, somewhere, has mentioned it on LJ and the act has the same surname as Dawn from Buffy: this way lies ennui. No talent, no skill, no singing or playing ability, and one joke, namely that the 70s were a bit naff. Who's ever thought of that before, huh?
And I've written all this 'cos the still not fixed (when exactly huh? when!) wacked out hot tap is homeopathically filling my bath: I'm sure the water level creeps asymptotically towards fillness, never quite getting there. Of the holy trinity of cat-food, loo roll and milk, I now have all 3, but I've just run out of cat litter. My video timer has given up the ghost entirely, my Outlook Express won't delete mail anymore, neither will the digital camera (delete, that is), my gas bill hasn't been paid for several lifetimes, and John Lewis only sells one video recorder in these our days of the new millennium and I don't think it had Video Plus. Entropy Rules OK. The world is too much with us: late and soon, getting and spending on Fringe tickets, we lay waste our powers..
Next: running a Privacy Workshop for fun and profit..
