I went to the doctors the other day, which is boring I realise but relevant to this blog, stay with me my story gets better!
Whilst waiting to see my GP and to be told something utterly useless I rifled through the magazines in the waiting room for something printed after 2007. Finding something from 2009 was an epic success.
Anyhoo, my luck was clearly in, this particular issue of (I think it was Vanity Fair, but don't quote me) had a very interesting interview with one of my personal idols, Simon Pegg, conducted by Janice Street Porter.
The media standard questions were issued, albeit with a touch more informed finesse from the JSP; Spaced/SotD & Hot Fuzz/Hollywood beckoning and a sprinkling of questions related to Pegg's personal life.
Of course one of the main topics that piqued my interest, always, is that of Spaced. Given that I believe it to be the best television show Britain has ever produced.
And what I want to address is a comment made by Pegg on the concept behind Spaced which I think sums it up perfectly and makes it one of the most germane sitcoms for my generation (and by my generation I mean those who are in their mid/late twenties and early thirties).
The comment was (roughly, I didn't take the mag from the GPs for reference) that Spaced essentially speaks to what can be referred to as today’s "Lost Generation". Up until fairly recently when you hit the 25 mark a special tag embedded somewhere in you went off in a sort of Logans Run type fashion. When this tag sends out its beacon it starts your biological clock and alerts society to start piling on the pressure for you to get married, punch out a few kids, get that promotion and the house in the suburbs and live normally ever after.
For my parents, the parents of pretty much everyone I know and the generations that preceded them this was the societal norm. Not in a fascist regime kind of way, it's just what everyone did. There was an unspoken agreement about what sort of time in your life you really should have figured everything out and be a grown up.
However, for my generation (the "Spaced" generation) we seem to have acquired an extra ten years that we, in Peggs words, "don't really know what to do with".
This extra ten years that bridge the gap from 25 to 35 (roughly, you can allow for extra on either side of those numbers depending on your situation) are spent barely navigating our way through our lives desperately trying to figure out what the hell it is we want to do with ourselves.
Tim & Daisy encapsulate this feeling of extended studentness perfectly and it's expertly peppered with the added anguish of well...the fact that we aren't students any more but supposed grown-ups in the eyes of the world but sure as hell not feeling like it.
We are the Star Wars, Genre Loving, Pop-Culture Quoting "Lost Generation" and that's why Spaced speaks to us. That's what makes it so good. Well, that and it's groundbreaking cinematic style, exceptional writing and brilliant cast of course.
It tapped into what we were all feeling, and still are to an extent, and put it on the small screen in the best way imaginable.
Spaced pretty much said; we get it, and isn't it hilarious?
Best. Sitcom. Ever.
Friday 11 December 2009
Monday 9 November 2009
Moon (Very minor spoiler alert)
I finally saw "Moon", quiet Sci-Fi from the more appropriately named Duncan Jones starring Sam Rockwell. Sam Rockwell who I believe is a decidedly underrated actor.
Actually, it's more like Science Future than Science Fiction. It portrays a not too distant nor too unbelievable future whereby man is present on the moon and mining it for Helium-3, a fuel required to provide clean and a pretty much inexhaustible source of energy to the earth.
A lonely job but someone has go to do it; a human presence is required to oversee the mining station and that presence is Sam Bell. Bell is assigned to a three year contract on the Moon Base with only an AI computer system called Gerty for company.
We come into the canon of Sam Bell at the point of 2 weeks until his 3 years are up and establish that Satellite Communications have been damaged and he has been unable to receive any live feed messages from earth for some time but rather pre-recorded messages received periodically. Through this we also discover that Sam Bell has a wife called Tess and a 3 year old daughter back home on earth.
Three years isolated in the silence of space have clearly taken their toll and there are already hints of slight barminess fringing Sam, just around the edges.
When Sam begins to hallucinate you would be forgiven for thinking that you were about to embark on a mans descent into madness brought on through intense solitude but this isn't the case.
During a routine mission to one of the harvesters Sam sees a young girl standing on the Moon's surface and understandably crashes his rover. He wakes up in the base infirmary, relatively in-tact and being cared for by Gerty.
At this point I should probably mention a few things about Gerty. Voiced by Kevin Spacey, he's sort of like a roving microwave with a couple of pretty sophisticated arm mechanisms that are operated by him but move around separately, if you can imagine. He also has a little monitor that projects Emoticons (or smileys) to convey what he is feeling, a touch I really liked. There are echoes of Hal, naturally, from 2001 but fortunately Gerty lacks the homicidal maniac chip as his AI is in fact not that sophisticated.
What happens next turns your expectations of the movie; during his recovery process Sam overhears Gerty having a live conversation with the Bosses back on earth, cue suspicions. Suspicion leads him to disobey orders of confinement and ventures out to investigate the crashed rover where he finds, well, himself still there and barely alive. As you would, he takes himself back to the base for treatment.
That's right, you guessed it, there's more than one Sam Bell. In fact there's a fairly limitless amount of Sam Bell's being stored under the base.
Sam Bell is a human product; there are hundreds, maybe thousands of clones ready to replace the current live version as it comes to the end of it's three year contract. Without giving too much away about the ending we end up with two Sam Bell's interacting and leading the movie to its conclusion, one that that has been there for three years and is getting sicker (and more gross!) by the second and the newly awakened post-crash Sam.
There is some nice contrast seen between a Sam Bell who has spent three years in crushing isolation and subsequently gone round the bend and a a newer model who is altogether a grumpier and less sympathetic version. Their scenes together are well done but once or twice are let down by their lack of impact, by that I mean the conveyance of general annoyance at each other as opposed to any real turmoil or emotion you would anticipate from the discovery of a clone of yourself.
The inspirations are apparent and well applied; A Space Odyssey, Solaris, Silent Running, Darkstar and even a few specks of Sunshine.
It's an excellent Sci-Fi contribution from Duncan Jones; dark, brooding and thankfully there is no naff twist.
Its evocations of loneliness and the importance of human connection are touching and I think it makes an interesting comment on identity and how that is valued in society.
It definitely merits another watch.
Actually, it's more like Science Future than Science Fiction. It portrays a not too distant nor too unbelievable future whereby man is present on the moon and mining it for Helium-3, a fuel required to provide clean and a pretty much inexhaustible source of energy to the earth.
A lonely job but someone has go to do it; a human presence is required to oversee the mining station and that presence is Sam Bell. Bell is assigned to a three year contract on the Moon Base with only an AI computer system called Gerty for company.
We come into the canon of Sam Bell at the point of 2 weeks until his 3 years are up and establish that Satellite Communications have been damaged and he has been unable to receive any live feed messages from earth for some time but rather pre-recorded messages received periodically. Through this we also discover that Sam Bell has a wife called Tess and a 3 year old daughter back home on earth.
Three years isolated in the silence of space have clearly taken their toll and there are already hints of slight barminess fringing Sam, just around the edges.
When Sam begins to hallucinate you would be forgiven for thinking that you were about to embark on a mans descent into madness brought on through intense solitude but this isn't the case.
During a routine mission to one of the harvesters Sam sees a young girl standing on the Moon's surface and understandably crashes his rover. He wakes up in the base infirmary, relatively in-tact and being cared for by Gerty.
At this point I should probably mention a few things about Gerty. Voiced by Kevin Spacey, he's sort of like a roving microwave with a couple of pretty sophisticated arm mechanisms that are operated by him but move around separately, if you can imagine. He also has a little monitor that projects Emoticons (or smileys) to convey what he is feeling, a touch I really liked. There are echoes of Hal, naturally, from 2001 but fortunately Gerty lacks the homicidal maniac chip as his AI is in fact not that sophisticated.
What happens next turns your expectations of the movie; during his recovery process Sam overhears Gerty having a live conversation with the Bosses back on earth, cue suspicions. Suspicion leads him to disobey orders of confinement and ventures out to investigate the crashed rover where he finds, well, himself still there and barely alive. As you would, he takes himself back to the base for treatment.
That's right, you guessed it, there's more than one Sam Bell. In fact there's a fairly limitless amount of Sam Bell's being stored under the base.
Sam Bell is a human product; there are hundreds, maybe thousands of clones ready to replace the current live version as it comes to the end of it's three year contract. Without giving too much away about the ending we end up with two Sam Bell's interacting and leading the movie to its conclusion, one that that has been there for three years and is getting sicker (and more gross!) by the second and the newly awakened post-crash Sam.
There is some nice contrast seen between a Sam Bell who has spent three years in crushing isolation and subsequently gone round the bend and a a newer model who is altogether a grumpier and less sympathetic version. Their scenes together are well done but once or twice are let down by their lack of impact, by that I mean the conveyance of general annoyance at each other as opposed to any real turmoil or emotion you would anticipate from the discovery of a clone of yourself.
The inspirations are apparent and well applied; A Space Odyssey, Solaris, Silent Running, Darkstar and even a few specks of Sunshine.
It's an excellent Sci-Fi contribution from Duncan Jones; dark, brooding and thankfully there is no naff twist.
Its evocations of loneliness and the importance of human connection are touching and I think it makes an interesting comment on identity and how that is valued in society.
It definitely merits another watch.
Why I have changed my Blog...again!
Because in its previous incarnation I was never inspired to write anything. The reasons for this are several. The first being it was presented under the monniker of "Lucille Burn"- my cabaret singing alter-ego. I felt this was limiting because by writing on behalf of Lucille I was blurring the lines between who I am and the sort of thing that Lucille should be saying versus the perceptions of the character. I have since realised this was silly.
Lucille doesn't need a blog, she has a MySpace - www.myspace.com/lucilleburn
Secondly, things that spew from brain on a day to day basis tend to be short and meandering which is why we have Facebook.
And thirdly, I just wanted my blog to represent who I am and I think this is it, I reckon there's a chance it will be more interesting this way.
So there you go...
Lucille doesn't need a blog, she has a MySpace - www.myspace.com/lucilleburn
Secondly, things that spew from brain on a day to day basis tend to be short and meandering which is why we have Facebook.
And thirdly, I just wanted my blog to represent who I am and I think this is it, I reckon there's a chance it will be more interesting this way.
So there you go...
Things that you can be pretty sure of.
In todays unpredictable world I like to know there are some certainties in life, a few of those for me are...
1. That I will never make up my mind what I want this blog to be for and I will NEVER update it as regularly as I would like
2. I will never like the Star Wars Prequels
3. I will never like Ricky Gervais
4. Even the XKCD strips I don't get, I enjoy (www.xkcd.com)
5. I will never go to bed on the same day that I woke up
6. I will always need more snooze
7. I will always argue that Spike is an infintely better character than Angel. (Angel only has two settings - moody and evil!)
8. Battlestar Galactica (Reboot, not the original) is quite possibly the best TV show ever made!
9. LOL Catz will always distract me from the work at hand
10. Babylon 5 is a big pile of shit (not mine but thrown in for comedy value)
1. That I will never make up my mind what I want this blog to be for and I will NEVER update it as regularly as I would like
2. I will never like the Star Wars Prequels
3. I will never like Ricky Gervais
4. Even the XKCD strips I don't get, I enjoy (www.xkcd.com)
5. I will never go to bed on the same day that I woke up
6. I will always need more snooze
7. I will always argue that Spike is an infintely better character than Angel. (Angel only has two settings - moody and evil!)
8. Battlestar Galactica (Reboot, not the original) is quite possibly the best TV show ever made!
9. LOL Catz will always distract me from the work at hand
10. Babylon 5 is a big pile of shit (not mine but thrown in for comedy value)
Friday 7 August 2009
Ed Fringe: Day 1 - List Party
Greetings people who don't read this!
It is my intention to blog every day to keep you up to date on Fringe shenanigans as they happen. Today marks the official launch of the festival with the infamous List Magazine Festival Launch Party. Held in what is normally the Spiegelgarden but as it is on hiatus this year we enjoyed complimentary Sagres & Bulmers in the very similar surroundings of Hullabaloo, replacement venueness from Fringe leviathan's, Smirnoff Underbelly.
Par for the course stuff; too many crew, strict door management with secret wristbands and far too little drinks tickets.
Obligatory first free pint goes down quickly as the place starts to fill up with media....press...media...living statue....media....press....performers....performers...performers...really large creepy guy with Promoter pass dangling in a "look, look now!" fashion........and then some more press. The Fringe has officially begun. Don't get me wrong, this is how it goes and I wouldn't change it for the world.
First pint has gone down like your mother in law at a wedding and you are ready to brace this throng of potentials and credentials with your own relevance.
The idea is to flit and dart around the crowd, pick out the people who are least likely to tell you to fuck off and give them the chat! The chat being, "living breathing Fringe guide...showcases the best acts from across the festival...incredible unpredictable line-up...surprise guests...open until 5am...only £8!" That part I enjoy saying because to me that's a fucking proper, in the true sense of the word, Fringe price!
With that part of the evening complete and feeling satisfied I had talked enough pish to earn my meagre free drink it was time for the centre piece of the evening, the List Magazine's Fringe highlight, well, cabaret!
Excellence was found in The Dirty Brothers Side Show, who you can see at The Bongo Club Cabaret on the 18th. Quite possibly the best angle-grinding and self-mutilation freak show act I have EVER seen and believe you me that's saying something!
There was also the Pyjama Boys (I think that's what they were called!) who had this amazing dry, new-American comedy going on mixed with an amazing ability for sketch theatre. They reminded me of a cross between Napolean Dynamite & Flight of the Conchords, from what I managed to gather they are on at Assembly...look them up, they made me laugh so hard I nearly peed! Sourcing them for Bongo, I will be!
Another gem was a Japanese trio called the Tights Men (I think, it's getting late and I have had one too many free Sagres!) Frankly, all that needs said is that they are a sort of weird version of Puppetry of the Penis...except they have replaced the penis with....full body leotard tight things... I know that doesn't sound like it should work but it does...they were on first so I can't remember where to tell you to see them...look up weird/japanese/tights. You won't find what I saw tonight but you are probably guaranteed a decent night in!
And so it was that the List Magazine Festival launch party happened once again, non-deterred were they by the lack of the Spiegelgarden and nor should they be as Hullabaloo looks to be a pretty awesome substitute. Not least because of the atmospheric, 100 year old Bosco Theatre that comprises its main venue. A mix of big top and studio theatre gives it a proper Fringe feel and the thought that it could truly be a blank canvas.
Bongo opens tomorrow night (Venue 143, 22.15 ) and I am very excited, if tonight is anything to go by then we are set for a pretty exciting Fringe. I hope to document it better than I have this evening. I will add to this if I think of something interesting that I forgot.
I am up in 4 hours so I bid you goodnight....
x L
It is my intention to blog every day to keep you up to date on Fringe shenanigans as they happen. Today marks the official launch of the festival with the infamous List Magazine Festival Launch Party. Held in what is normally the Spiegelgarden but as it is on hiatus this year we enjoyed complimentary Sagres & Bulmers in the very similar surroundings of Hullabaloo, replacement venueness from Fringe leviathan's, Smirnoff Underbelly.
Par for the course stuff; too many crew, strict door management with secret wristbands and far too little drinks tickets.
Obligatory first free pint goes down quickly as the place starts to fill up with media....press...media...living statue....media....press....performers....performers...performers...really large creepy guy with Promoter pass dangling in a "look, look now!" fashion........and then some more press. The Fringe has officially begun. Don't get me wrong, this is how it goes and I wouldn't change it for the world.
First pint has gone down like your mother in law at a wedding and you are ready to brace this throng of potentials and credentials with your own relevance.
The idea is to flit and dart around the crowd, pick out the people who are least likely to tell you to fuck off and give them the chat! The chat being, "living breathing Fringe guide...showcases the best acts from across the festival...incredible unpredictable line-up...surprise guests...open until 5am...only £8!" That part I enjoy saying because to me that's a fucking proper, in the true sense of the word, Fringe price!
With that part of the evening complete and feeling satisfied I had talked enough pish to earn my meagre free drink it was time for the centre piece of the evening, the List Magazine's Fringe highlight, well, cabaret!
Excellence was found in The Dirty Brothers Side Show, who you can see at The Bongo Club Cabaret on the 18th. Quite possibly the best angle-grinding and self-mutilation freak show act I have EVER seen and believe you me that's saying something!
There was also the Pyjama Boys (I think that's what they were called!) who had this amazing dry, new-American comedy going on mixed with an amazing ability for sketch theatre. They reminded me of a cross between Napolean Dynamite & Flight of the Conchords, from what I managed to gather they are on at Assembly...look them up, they made me laugh so hard I nearly peed! Sourcing them for Bongo, I will be!
Another gem was a Japanese trio called the Tights Men (I think, it's getting late and I have had one too many free Sagres!) Frankly, all that needs said is that they are a sort of weird version of Puppetry of the Penis...except they have replaced the penis with....full body leotard tight things... I know that doesn't sound like it should work but it does...they were on first so I can't remember where to tell you to see them...look up weird/japanese/tights. You won't find what I saw tonight but you are probably guaranteed a decent night in!
And so it was that the List Magazine Festival launch party happened once again, non-deterred were they by the lack of the Spiegelgarden and nor should they be as Hullabaloo looks to be a pretty awesome substitute. Not least because of the atmospheric, 100 year old Bosco Theatre that comprises its main venue. A mix of big top and studio theatre gives it a proper Fringe feel and the thought that it could truly be a blank canvas.
Bongo opens tomorrow night (Venue 143, 22.15 ) and I am very excited, if tonight is anything to go by then we are set for a pretty exciting Fringe. I hope to document it better than I have this evening. I will add to this if I think of something interesting that I forgot.
I am up in 4 hours so I bid you goodnight....
x L
Wednesday 29 July 2009
Gen Nexters - A blog written in the summer of 2009 and never posted...
...I thought given the time that has passed and that we have just entered 2011 that there was something particularly poignant about posting this now. To see how much I have changed and, indeed, stayed the same within that short space of time.
When you trawl the internet for interesting words and opinions as much as I do you can often be stuck for what to write or what to say because there are so many other people saying it for you, often better, but as I was reading Fringe preview articles in The List this afternoon I came across the following phrase, stated by Ella Hickson, young female playwright responsible for "Eight" and this years Fringe offering, "Precious Little Talent"...
"My generation is having to face up to its own mediocrity pretty quickly. We were told, “Get a good education, a degree, and your life will be sorted”, but that’s just not the case anymore. We’re a generation fighting not to be forgotten and I wanted to address that."
The last half of this statement really struck me. It made me start to think about the notion of the "twenty-something" and expectations...thinking in a sort of rambling way so if this post never actually reaches a logical conclusion they I do apologise (do you see what I meant by doing it better!)
It's probably fairly safe to say that not everyone is an ambition-addled over achiever who know what they want to do and are fixated on having this achieved, and perhaps even have it peak and level out, before they turn 30. In fact people like this in the "twenty-something" bracket are few and far between. Those who know me well will be the first to say that I fall under this banner, and they wouldn't be wrong, but even I lack faith in what is going on and where I am going sometimes.
Are we a generation fighting not to be forgotten or are we in fact drifiting along in a confused state until we hit a signpost that will point us down the right path to achievement?
In my opinion a lot of us spend the first half of our twenties not worrying greatly about what is around the corner, and quite rightly so, because it's too early to think about. We're young, practically children in the grand scheme of things, what's the rush? We'll figure it out when we get there. Just follow the formulaic 3-step programme, as detailed above and all will be fine; good education, degree and then good job - sorted! Win!
Hmmm, well, I did that...checked those three (well, 2 and a half!) boxes...so why do I not feel any closer to being where I want to be?
Well first of all there are no jobs, in the main this is down to the economic climate, something that is outwith the control of us mere mortals. Yet the flow of graduates is not decreasing, industry can't sustain the volume of qualified clever clogs looking for high-paid and rewarding work in their chosen field.
What we are getting are call centres full of over-qualified, gradually becoming apathetic, "twenty-somethings" with their aspirations dwindling. It's very difficult when you've got student loans to repay and the cost of living in the real world to contend with to throw caution to the wind and bin the 9-5 in search of the dream job which may be just that, a dream.
Perhaps we aren't facing up to mediocrity but trying desperately to find a way to fight it as it closes in on us. Money certainly isn't everything and shouldn't be the facilitating factor in ultimate happiness, for most people anyway, but then again living below the poverty line and receiving post-interview rejection letters is pretty fucking miserable.
Second of all, the time when just leaving Uni, getting a high paid job of any description - it didn't matter what as long as it paid well and embodied a certain element of power and/or responsibility - before getting married and pumping out a few kids equalled satisfaction has long since passed. There's a certain element of pressure to have a goal beyond this, specialise in something and do everything you can to acheive it.
As a generation we do want more, we don't want to be forgotten and we want to be able to do what we want to do and be rewarded for it. Where the challenge lies is figuring out how to do that.
Tuesday 14 July 2009
Post-Festival Blues
The first Glasgow Cabaret Festival is done and dusted, closing with Dr Sketchy Glasgow and a bit of a post-sketching soiree at The Arches.
It's a funny thing working on a project of that nature and scale; a years worth of pre-production flies by and then a week can feel like year and then it's over...all done, in a blink!
With 26 shows (that we know of) across 13 venues in the city of Glasgow, 5 sell-outs within our core programme and an amazing finale show at the ABC on Saturday night I spent most of the whole week waiting for the other big sparkly shoe to drop.
Launching a festival for the first time, particularly one that involves a new concept for the discerning arts audience is risky business, especially when you are completely unfunded. Normally such ventures start incredibly small, building over a number years from their infancy to something of the size that Glasgow Cabaret Festival ended up being in its inaugural year and that, quite frankly is overwhelming, I'm reeling a little bit.
And as such my body now doesn't know what to do - a week of going to shows every night, early starts and even later nights, very little normal behaviour such as eating and sleeping taking place and imbibing alcohol every night with some of the most talented people I've had the pleasure of working with to date...wow, that sounds like a Festival doesn't it? How did that happen?
At RwP HQ I am still collating statistics; full head counts throughout the week for all the venues, tickets sold, revenue (hah!) generated, press garnered, performers participating etc. I smell an epic debrief....ew!
My partner and cohort Rufus is roaming the room like caged animal, having pulled off the biggest project of our careers to date with relatively few hiccups has left us feeling somewhat restless. And another amazing result of all this is...the Fringe...which would normally be filling us with throat drying fear around about this time of year feels like, dare I say it, that it might be a walk in the park (famous last words!)
GCF 09 highlights for me include having the pleasure of enjoying not one, not two but THREE nights of the amazing Frisky & Mannish. It felt a little like they were saying, "Oh hey Lucille, here's the bar, come join us up here!"
Late night nonsense spent with Beatrix von Bourbon.
The Redettes, my lovely new singing trio, making their debut at the altogether too spectacular Missy & Leyla Show.
Gushing aside; mostly I'm humbled, the level of support and belief that Rufus and I received from the Cabaret scene at large in the UK, not just in Scotland, was not only hugely positive it was massively touching. People got behind this concept and united to make it happen, Rufus and I have always known what a great support network we have and for that we are stupidly grateful but the past week showed us something we didn't know existed - it went beyond professional amicability, it was bordering on camaraderie.
I am unsure yet how next year will pan out, all I know is that there is absolutely the desire to make it happen. And I have some ideas; creatively and commerically. With a successful example to present I know I can do this festival and everyone involved in it this year and prospective participants of 2010 real justice.
Roll on the Fringe, if it's half as successful I can retire...
It's a funny thing working on a project of that nature and scale; a years worth of pre-production flies by and then a week can feel like year and then it's over...all done, in a blink!
With 26 shows (that we know of) across 13 venues in the city of Glasgow, 5 sell-outs within our core programme and an amazing finale show at the ABC on Saturday night I spent most of the whole week waiting for the other big sparkly shoe to drop.
Launching a festival for the first time, particularly one that involves a new concept for the discerning arts audience is risky business, especially when you are completely unfunded. Normally such ventures start incredibly small, building over a number years from their infancy to something of the size that Glasgow Cabaret Festival ended up being in its inaugural year and that, quite frankly is overwhelming, I'm reeling a little bit.
And as such my body now doesn't know what to do - a week of going to shows every night, early starts and even later nights, very little normal behaviour such as eating and sleeping taking place and imbibing alcohol every night with some of the most talented people I've had the pleasure of working with to date...wow, that sounds like a Festival doesn't it? How did that happen?
At RwP HQ I am still collating statistics; full head counts throughout the week for all the venues, tickets sold, revenue (hah!) generated, press garnered, performers participating etc. I smell an epic debrief....ew!
My partner and cohort Rufus is roaming the room like caged animal, having pulled off the biggest project of our careers to date with relatively few hiccups has left us feeling somewhat restless. And another amazing result of all this is...the Fringe...which would normally be filling us with throat drying fear around about this time of year feels like, dare I say it, that it might be a walk in the park (famous last words!)
GCF 09 highlights for me include having the pleasure of enjoying not one, not two but THREE nights of the amazing Frisky & Mannish. It felt a little like they were saying, "Oh hey Lucille, here's the bar, come join us up here!"
Late night nonsense spent with Beatrix von Bourbon.
The Redettes, my lovely new singing trio, making their debut at the altogether too spectacular Missy & Leyla Show.
Gushing aside; mostly I'm humbled, the level of support and belief that Rufus and I received from the Cabaret scene at large in the UK, not just in Scotland, was not only hugely positive it was massively touching. People got behind this concept and united to make it happen, Rufus and I have always known what a great support network we have and for that we are stupidly grateful but the past week showed us something we didn't know existed - it went beyond professional amicability, it was bordering on camaraderie.
I am unsure yet how next year will pan out, all I know is that there is absolutely the desire to make it happen. And I have some ideas; creatively and commerically. With a successful example to present I know I can do this festival and everyone involved in it this year and prospective participants of 2010 real justice.
Roll on the Fringe, if it's half as successful I can retire...
Monday 29 June 2009
Sleepeh
Tired again. Too tired to do the things that I should be doing but too drained to sleep.
I had a day off today and I am already feeling guilty about it, even though it was thoroughly pleasant and I am fairly confident it's deserved however as midnight passes me by my brain is starting to do that irritating thing of keeping me awake worrying about all the things I actually chose not to deal with...
"Ladies and gentlemen, a tap dance..."
Richard Gere is tap dancing for all he's worth (several million) on my TV right now, I like a good musical when I can't sleep, it allows me to escape and wonder about what could have happened if I had decided to just take direction rather than issue it.
What was I talking about?
Feeling guilty about taking time off...being too tired too sleep...yes, so I have a frightening amount of work to get through in this next week, probably more than a weeks worth and I am awake, engaging my brain enough to write this, but not enough to tackle some of the minor tasks, some of the little tasks on top of a rather dense pile that would make my week pass more smoothly.
For some reason though writing this will give me a feeling of some sort of acheivement, enough to stave off the guilt until tomorrow morning, even though it doesn't serve any real purpose. When the sun comes in through the skylight window above my bed and my coffee is on the boil everything will, I know, be so much more surmountable in the stark, dry Monday morning light of day and all of this worry will dissapate into the ether, into nothing and seem silly.
But it's not silly right now...I'm worried...worried that a relaxing day off is now seemingly in vain because I am ruining it with fucking worry!!! Fucksake...
Worried that I am overthinking all of this...
Worried that I haven't blogged enough...now that's silly.
Worried that I'm not doing the right thing.
Worried about money
Worried about my health
Worried about my relationships
Worried about work
Worried about blogging about worry
Less worried about tomorrow
I had a day off today and I am already feeling guilty about it, even though it was thoroughly pleasant and I am fairly confident it's deserved however as midnight passes me by my brain is starting to do that irritating thing of keeping me awake worrying about all the things I actually chose not to deal with...
"Ladies and gentlemen, a tap dance..."
Richard Gere is tap dancing for all he's worth (several million) on my TV right now, I like a good musical when I can't sleep, it allows me to escape and wonder about what could have happened if I had decided to just take direction rather than issue it.
What was I talking about?
Feeling guilty about taking time off...being too tired too sleep...yes, so I have a frightening amount of work to get through in this next week, probably more than a weeks worth and I am awake, engaging my brain enough to write this, but not enough to tackle some of the minor tasks, some of the little tasks on top of a rather dense pile that would make my week pass more smoothly.
For some reason though writing this will give me a feeling of some sort of acheivement, enough to stave off the guilt until tomorrow morning, even though it doesn't serve any real purpose. When the sun comes in through the skylight window above my bed and my coffee is on the boil everything will, I know, be so much more surmountable in the stark, dry Monday morning light of day and all of this worry will dissapate into the ether, into nothing and seem silly.
But it's not silly right now...I'm worried...worried that a relaxing day off is now seemingly in vain because I am ruining it with fucking worry!!! Fucksake...
Worried that I am overthinking all of this...
Worried that I haven't blogged enough...now that's silly.
Worried that I'm not doing the right thing.
Worried about money
Worried about my health
Worried about my relationships
Worried about work
Worried about blogging about worry
Less worried about tomorrow
Thursday 18 June 2009
Fringe Frolics
It's worth pointing out that cabaret abounds in this years Fringe programme which is beneficial for those who want to test the water a little bit before they cannonball into what this years programme has to offer.
When faced with an overwhelming amount of shows each with only 200 words of copy to help you decide what to spend your Fringe pound on it can be a daunting and subsequently soul-destroying experience if you get more misses than hits.
Which is why The Bongo Club Cabaret could be the theatrical equivalent of a Sat Nav to assist you in mapping out where to go and what to see.
This late night showcase is back for what I understand to be its 5th year of obscene fun and frolics and the programming reigns are now in the hands of Glasgow based Theatre Company, Rhymes with Purple Productions (www.rhymeswithpurple.net).
The idea behind the Bongo Club Cabaret is to present the best of what the Fringe programme has to offer - from circus and comedy to live music and theatre of all kinds.
Each night the line-up is different and is mainly comprised of Fringe acts performing a snippet of their offering. Therefore if you like what you see and want more you can add them to your wish list with at least some amount of certainty that it will be ticket money well spent.
Either that or you will go see the show and realise just now much the Bongo Club being open until 5am and the drink being cheap clouded your usually very astute artistic judgement!
In addition to that my Fringe picks would also be Gagarin's Way at The Stand - I have yet to be disappointed by any of Phil Nicols forrays into theatre.
For comedy Simon Amstell (also at The Bongo Club incidentally!) or Dylan Moran.
And for ground-breaking new theatre and the thought that anything might happen then definitely check out The Arches at St Stephens, personally I am very exicted about the prospect of Scratch at the Fringe!
When faced with an overwhelming amount of shows each with only 200 words of copy to help you decide what to spend your Fringe pound on it can be a daunting and subsequently soul-destroying experience if you get more misses than hits.
Which is why The Bongo Club Cabaret could be the theatrical equivalent of a Sat Nav to assist you in mapping out where to go and what to see.
This late night showcase is back for what I understand to be its 5th year of obscene fun and frolics and the programming reigns are now in the hands of Glasgow based Theatre Company, Rhymes with Purple Productions (www.rhymeswithpurple.net).
The idea behind the Bongo Club Cabaret is to present the best of what the Fringe programme has to offer - from circus and comedy to live music and theatre of all kinds.
Each night the line-up is different and is mainly comprised of Fringe acts performing a snippet of their offering. Therefore if you like what you see and want more you can add them to your wish list with at least some amount of certainty that it will be ticket money well spent.
Either that or you will go see the show and realise just now much the Bongo Club being open until 5am and the drink being cheap clouded your usually very astute artistic judgement!
In addition to that my Fringe picks would also be Gagarin's Way at The Stand - I have yet to be disappointed by any of Phil Nicols forrays into theatre.
For comedy Simon Amstell (also at The Bongo Club incidentally!) or Dylan Moran.
And for ground-breaking new theatre and the thought that anything might happen then definitely check out The Arches at St Stephens, personally I am very exicted about the prospect of Scratch at the Fringe!
Thursday 11 June 2009
The Art Of Cabaret...or is it the Cabaret of Art?
So off the Subway Festival and straight into pre-production for the Glasgow Cabaret Festival.
I would like to just get this out of the way first...
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHH!
This is the result of a number of factors; 1. Excitement 2. Fear 3. More Fear.
I'm excited because I think we've pulled together a pretty amazing programme and do genuinely believe this a very workable concept, I know everyone who works on a festival in an major capacity says this but in this instance it really applies without cliche, we have something for everyone. The programme is massively diverse.
In addition to this we have some pretty cool stuff that Glasgow hasn't seen before - I'm just going to give you some little highlights just now. It won't do the full programme justice so I strongly recommend you visit the website to persuse the lot and see what tickles you nethers!
Performing at And The Devil May Drag You Under at the Tron on Friday 10 July
I'm so excited about these guys, we are very lucky to have them. Coming to Scotland for the first time all the way from Tokyo via Paris to perform at our Festival - a fabulous amalgamation of visual Japanese toy-pop!
At "And The Devil May Drag You Under" they will be joined by Frayed Knot Circus' Amelie Soleil and Ed Muir, The Creative Martyrs, Vendetta Vain, Miss Leggy Pee and Frisky & Mannish all held together but the perfect Master of Ceremonies, Mr Desmond O Connor!
The Missy & Leyla Show on Saturday 11 July at the ABC
I think the flyer says it all...you know what, visit the website, it's awesome! I will blog throughout the festival and keep you up to date, also you can follow Festival updates on Twitter! Get yer Tweet on!
Subterranean Shenanigans
For someone who spends most of their waking hours at the moment in front of a computer it's appalling how little time I have spent on updating this blog. I would apologise but frankly I have been unapologetically busy! Nevermind, I'm reporting back now and that's what matters.
My painfully purple world turned painfully orange for the month of May as I spent most of it underground, literally and figuratively, working on the Subway Festival - www.subwayfestival.com.
This was quite a project because it was hellish and amazing in equal measure. Hellish from a logistical and production point of view - programming performance of all kinds, from live bands to acrobats, into the confined space of a moving subway train that is operating on a normal service is sort of like trying to catch a bee with a puppy. You need a steady hand and a lot of patience but when you succeed you get a sense of triumph and satisfaction from accomplishing something utterly bizarre and completely pointless! The best kind of arty triumph!
And amazing because it worked, it doesn't seem like it should but it did; can-can dancers and Shakespearean performance can be appreciated that little bit further when placed completely out of context.
Despite the production problems, health & safety tangles, drunken Rangers fans and the fact that an entire festival was taking place in an underground network the whole thing was a brilliant successs. Our 30 strong crew and 300 odd performers had a ball even in the face of major event duress. Well done that team, lesser mortals would have thrown up their hands and proclaimed "Done!" in the face of certain conditions.
We also managed to achieve 4-5 star reviews and sold-out shows for the theatrical programme - ProudExposure's "Sub Opera" and Martin O Connor's "Inner Circle" both garnered excellent press in both The Scotsman and The Herald. Quite an achievement for a festival in its infancy that is still trying to convince the industry of its artistic value - nice one!
The Scotsman on "Inner Circle" & "Sub Opera"
http://living.scotsman.com/performing-arts/Theate-review-Inner-Circle.5300486.jp
The Herald on "Inner Circle"
http://www.theherald.co.uk/features/features/display.var.2510130.0.inner_circle_subway_festival_glasgow_underground_glasgow.php
And my own Theatre Company was well represented by our dear Ben Allison, performing a monologue especially written for the Festival. Armed with his can of Special Brew and a message on his lips he recited "A Midsummer Nights Train Home" to the unsuspecting commuters, quite hilarious to watch it slowly dawn on them that was in fact not a real drunken bum.
It filled me with elation and joy to hear people laugh and watch them enjoy Ben's performance and when they gave him a standing ovation at the end, on a train, not anticipating they would be performed to...well, that reminded me why I was working non-stop on this festival clad in a frightful bright orange hoodie...little reminders for big pleasures.
Here it is for you to enjoy
A Midsummer Nights Train Home
Friends, Glaswegians, Subway travellers, lend me your beers!
Taxi or not taxi, that was the question;
Whether was nobler in the mind to suffer
The puke and abuse of late night taxi queues,
Or to take the subway and unfortunately
Leave the pub early. On the train, you can sleep
And by a sleep you can stay the hangover
To come and the pounding head of morning.
But soft, no light through yonder window breaks?
It is the inner circle. And it’s dark down here.
Arise, fair lady, and give me your seat,
For I am already sick and pale with beer
And may fall over upon you.
Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and just as hot:
Rough trains do shake the darling buds of... sorry
And so i ask if there’s any chance of a date:
Is this a lager which I see before me,
The can turned toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I should have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, tasty beveridge, illegal
By public drinking laws? or art thou but
A lager of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I taste thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I burp.
I am a drunk. Hath not a drunk eyes? Hath not a drunk hands,
organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same
kebabs, hurt with the same chibs, subject to the same subway fare,
carried by the same train, warm'd and cool'd by the same wee window, as a sober man is?
If you kick us, do we not say “haw! Watchit pal!”?
If you tickle us, do we not say “gerraf me ya buftie”?
If you poison us, we do not die... cause we’re already pickled!
Out, damn'd spot! out, I say!— who would have thought a wee kebab
Would have had so much sauce in him?
All the world's a train,
And all the men and women merely travellers;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And each one must mind the gap,
My painfully purple world turned painfully orange for the month of May as I spent most of it underground, literally and figuratively, working on the Subway Festival - www.subwayfestival.com.
This was quite a project because it was hellish and amazing in equal measure. Hellish from a logistical and production point of view - programming performance of all kinds, from live bands to acrobats, into the confined space of a moving subway train that is operating on a normal service is sort of like trying to catch a bee with a puppy. You need a steady hand and a lot of patience but when you succeed you get a sense of triumph and satisfaction from accomplishing something utterly bizarre and completely pointless! The best kind of arty triumph!
And amazing because it worked, it doesn't seem like it should but it did; can-can dancers and Shakespearean performance can be appreciated that little bit further when placed completely out of context.
Despite the production problems, health & safety tangles, drunken Rangers fans and the fact that an entire festival was taking place in an underground network the whole thing was a brilliant successs. Our 30 strong crew and 300 odd performers had a ball even in the face of major event duress. Well done that team, lesser mortals would have thrown up their hands and proclaimed "Done!" in the face of certain conditions.
We also managed to achieve 4-5 star reviews and sold-out shows for the theatrical programme - ProudExposure's "Sub Opera" and Martin O Connor's "Inner Circle" both garnered excellent press in both The Scotsman and The Herald. Quite an achievement for a festival in its infancy that is still trying to convince the industry of its artistic value - nice one!
The Scotsman on "Inner Circle" & "Sub Opera"
http://living.scotsman.com/performing-arts/Theate-review-Inner-Circle.5300486.jp
The Herald on "Inner Circle"
http://www.theherald.co.uk/features/features/display.var.2510130.0.inner_circle_subway_festival_glasgow_underground_glasgow.php
And my own Theatre Company was well represented by our dear Ben Allison, performing a monologue especially written for the Festival. Armed with his can of Special Brew and a message on his lips he recited "A Midsummer Nights Train Home" to the unsuspecting commuters, quite hilarious to watch it slowly dawn on them that was in fact not a real drunken bum.
It filled me with elation and joy to hear people laugh and watch them enjoy Ben's performance and when they gave him a standing ovation at the end, on a train, not anticipating they would be performed to...well, that reminded me why I was working non-stop on this festival clad in a frightful bright orange hoodie...little reminders for big pleasures.
Here it is for you to enjoy
A Midsummer Nights Train Home
Friends, Glaswegians, Subway travellers, lend me your beers!
Taxi or not taxi, that was the question;
Whether was nobler in the mind to suffer
The puke and abuse of late night taxi queues,
Or to take the subway and unfortunately
Leave the pub early. On the train, you can sleep
And by a sleep you can stay the hangover
To come and the pounding head of morning.
But soft, no light through yonder window breaks?
It is the inner circle. And it’s dark down here.
Arise, fair lady, and give me your seat,
For I am already sick and pale with beer
And may fall over upon you.
Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and just as hot:
Rough trains do shake the darling buds of... sorry
And so i ask if there’s any chance of a date:
Is this a lager which I see before me,
The can turned toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I should have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, tasty beveridge, illegal
By public drinking laws? or art thou but
A lager of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I taste thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I burp.
I am a drunk. Hath not a drunk eyes? Hath not a drunk hands,
organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same
kebabs, hurt with the same chibs, subject to the same subway fare,
carried by the same train, warm'd and cool'd by the same wee window, as a sober man is?
If you kick us, do we not say “haw! Watchit pal!”?
If you tickle us, do we not say “gerraf me ya buftie”?
If you poison us, we do not die... cause we’re already pickled!
Out, damn'd spot! out, I say!— who would have thought a wee kebab
Would have had so much sauce in him?
All the world's a train,
And all the men and women merely travellers;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And each one must mind the gap,
Monday 9 March 2009
Heart vs. Mind
It's strange how seemingly logical and rational individuals can be made completely loopy by certain situations. Normally said individual can be unfazed and maintain a cool head at frantic times when others are losing theirs but put them into a situation that affects them emotionally and all logic goes out the window.
I'm often fascinated by how the brain functions; it's the centre for how everything in our body works and manages certain survival functions as a matter of course - we eat, sleep and breath in and out without thinking about it but it's interesting how these automatic functions can suddenly feel impossible when it comes to matters of emotion - how does that work?
The loss of a loved one or unrequited love can render someone unable to eat, unable to sleep and sometimes you stop breathing altogether at pivotal moments.
Why do we do certain things without thinking or say exactly the wrong thing at a delicate moment? We can deliberate forever over certain decisions; what kind of car to buy, what to eat for dinner, where to buy your first house and these decisions range from trivial to very important so we take our time over them, think about the path of cause and effect before moving forward. However, when it comes to our relationships with other people we jump head first, blind, without thinking.
Even the most intelligent person, the kind that can organise, file and sort through most of their mental processess with an intricate understanding of how it all works can be made completely batshit through they way they are made to feel by other people.
I'm particularly intrigued by how this works in relation to love and what happens to the brain on that rare occasion that you meet someone who sparks a trigger somwhere in the depths of your mind - please note that I went out of my way not to say the word "soul" here, I don't like the word "soul". All sensations are connected to the mind; butterflies in the stomach, blushing accompanied by the desperation to impress, the ache born from seperation and of course that nasty, deeply embedded wrench in the centre of your chest that comes with rejection. All of these things are controlled by the brain but are impossible to overcome despite the fact that you know it's nuts, it's not rational and you eagerly try to reason with your own mind in a vain attempt to keep yourself sane.
For example; a sane person will do insane things when they feel very strongly about another individual, knowing FULL well what they might be doing is not the act of a rational, normal person. And yet...they do it...why? Why can't, with a decent sense of self-awareness, we successfully reason with our own brains?
Repitition is a key element to this sort of insanity; making the same wrong decision over and over again even though you KNOW the outcome will be the same. Painful, fruitless and stupid.
It's the worst kind of science - there's no control experiment, you keep trying different methods over and over despite the fact that you know, deep down in that big rational brain of yours, that the results are always the same.
I'm not sure if any of that made sense - I think I'm going to stop putting off Monday by watching Big Trouble in Little China (even though it's awesome!) and head to bed.
I'm often fascinated by how the brain functions; it's the centre for how everything in our body works and manages certain survival functions as a matter of course - we eat, sleep and breath in and out without thinking about it but it's interesting how these automatic functions can suddenly feel impossible when it comes to matters of emotion - how does that work?
The loss of a loved one or unrequited love can render someone unable to eat, unable to sleep and sometimes you stop breathing altogether at pivotal moments.
Why do we do certain things without thinking or say exactly the wrong thing at a delicate moment? We can deliberate forever over certain decisions; what kind of car to buy, what to eat for dinner, where to buy your first house and these decisions range from trivial to very important so we take our time over them, think about the path of cause and effect before moving forward. However, when it comes to our relationships with other people we jump head first, blind, without thinking.
Even the most intelligent person, the kind that can organise, file and sort through most of their mental processess with an intricate understanding of how it all works can be made completely batshit through they way they are made to feel by other people.
I'm particularly intrigued by how this works in relation to love and what happens to the brain on that rare occasion that you meet someone who sparks a trigger somwhere in the depths of your mind - please note that I went out of my way not to say the word "soul" here, I don't like the word "soul". All sensations are connected to the mind; butterflies in the stomach, blushing accompanied by the desperation to impress, the ache born from seperation and of course that nasty, deeply embedded wrench in the centre of your chest that comes with rejection. All of these things are controlled by the brain but are impossible to overcome despite the fact that you know it's nuts, it's not rational and you eagerly try to reason with your own mind in a vain attempt to keep yourself sane.
For example; a sane person will do insane things when they feel very strongly about another individual, knowing FULL well what they might be doing is not the act of a rational, normal person. And yet...they do it...why? Why can't, with a decent sense of self-awareness, we successfully reason with our own brains?
Repitition is a key element to this sort of insanity; making the same wrong decision over and over again even though you KNOW the outcome will be the same. Painful, fruitless and stupid.
It's the worst kind of science - there's no control experiment, you keep trying different methods over and over despite the fact that you know, deep down in that big rational brain of yours, that the results are always the same.
I'm not sure if any of that made sense - I think I'm going to stop putting off Monday by watching Big Trouble in Little China (even though it's awesome!) and head to bed.
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