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Stop the Tardis - A poetry musical Edinburgh Diary 2002 |
After months of monumental preparation and punishing rehearsal schedules we’re now all bagged up with minidisk player, selection of megaphones, long multi-coloured Tom Baker-esque scarf, acoustic guitar and two pink boiler suits. We’re ready for the journey north – to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, and more importantly, Project Adorno’s week long run of “Stop the Tardis”, a poetry musical.
Our taxi journey to King’s Cross is traffic free this early on a Saturday morning, which is just as well given our driver’s constant chatter: “Big Genesis fan myself. Once saw them in the pouring rain at Milton Keynes Bowl – filled up just like a goldfish bowl”. I question whether he’s followed them from their Peter Gabriel days: “Oh no, too experimental for me. I do like a bit of Phil Collins though”. Talk turns to David Bowie as our driver enthuses about his role in “The man who fell from earth” (sic).
We stagger with luggage from taxi to train feeling for all the world like we’re taking part in one of those strongest man in the world competitions, or perhaps “It’s a knockout” – all we’re lacking is Stuart Hall laughing hysterically in the background as I attempt to hoist the Project Adorno props bag up onto the luggage rack.
Journey underway I scan the Fringe programme trying to construct an arbitrary timetable of “must-see” shows – trying to fit them in and around our own show times, high street publicity/performance slots and Fringe Sunday showcase event.
Four and a half hours later we arrive at Edinburgh Waverly and do the last leg of our journey on foot. Our accommodation is wonderful – a downstairs Regency flat (probably what used to be servants quarters) in the aptly named Regents Terrace – a street which is as grand as it sounds (akin to a Royal Crescent complete with cobble stones) – obviously on the expensive side of town.
After reorganising all the luggage we soon head back into town to find our venue, Greyfriars Kirk House, and do our tech run through. Upon arrival it all looks rather like a building site as last minute preparations go on to turn the place into a credible venue for the duration of the festival. Our performance space feels perfect (in terms of shape and size), though we’re initially worried by the absence of microphones (even though we’ve asked for and been charged for them!). Two mics (plus stands) and one DI box later, and a good tech rehearsal ensues – we can be comfortable here. It’s then that we descend into admin hell as we’re asked to sign numerous health and safety forms, promise not to flypost illegally and come clean about any music used in the show that requires copyright clearance (it’s all original), although there are a few Dr Who quotes/samples thrown in for good measure.
After what seems an age, we’re released and free to roam the Edinburgh streets once more (it’s about 10pm by this time – our tech began at 6). We contemplate going to a show, but in truth we’re exhausted and opt to go home and collapse. Back at the flat we fuse all the lights and have to call on a neighbour to resolve the situation. We decide to go out for something to eat. Along the way we meet up with our musician friend Nick who has just arrived. He’ll be helping us out with High Street “busking” performances during the week.
"Tom Baker" rehearsals, Russell sows
We also try “Davros” using a CD walkman and speakers, though this is less successful – it all gets rather lost in the hullabaloo of the High Street where everyone it seems is promoting a show of some sort! Nick does a run-through of his “Day return” song and we finish with another burst of “Tom Baker”. It’s all been quite exhilarating – crowd ebbing and flowing constantly during our slot – but crucially we’ve got rid of a good number of leaflets.
We take it easy for the rest of the day (as from tomorrow it will all be manic) and opt to see a few shows. A number of our poetry cohorts are performing in some shape or form, including Mat Harvey (wry, softly spoken, satirical poet) and Rory Motion (an astutely funny poet and madcap songwriter) appearing together in “One night stanza”. This is our first experience to experience a show other than our own – both fellow Adornite, Russell, and I make mental notes on the way it all hangs together – the fact that they’re a double act is also helpful for comparison purposes. Their show is great – Rory bringing the house down with his “head banging” xylophone playing technique, “Welsh” Bob Dylan impressions and ready Yorkshireman wit (“You can tell a Yorkshireman, but you can’t tell him much”). Meanwhile Mat marries subjects as diverse as “philosophy and teabags”, his poems delivered with dry wit and unassuming humour. They simply do what they do best – reading poems and singing songs – no pretension, each taking he mike alternately for a short segment and sitting down in-between. Russell and I have been agonising over themes and links in our piece, and I feel, seeing Mat and Rory, that a few fears have been allayed. We greet the two of them after the show – they’re disappointed not to have had a bigger audience but it’s only just the start of their run.
Another show to get to before the
day’s out. We’re determined to see Julian Fox (another performer friend)
in his “Goodbye Seattle Coffee Company” show sometime during our stay, and
knowing what the rest of the week will be like, we opt to go tonight. It’s
swelteringly hot up in the Pleasance Attic as Julian shuffles on-stage –
little boy lost – complete with wig and guitar. It’s a great act, musings
and music on the theme of stardom, seen through the eyes of a stage door
keeper working at the Barbican. It works so well, but why are we all so
fascinated by Julian? We’re all laughing, even though we can’t always work
out quite why – perhaps because it’s all too close to
reality….
Back at the flat all the lights fuse again. Exhausted by
the day’s events we decide to sort it out in daylight the
tomorrow.
This is it then – day one of our run. Lots to do before showtime – more leafleting and a high street slot (including more high octane bursts of “Tom Baker”!). We manage to catch a lunchtime show, a play called “Rice” written by poet/performer friend Alison. It is stunning – a multimedia, dance and physical theatre piece – totally avant-garde and constantly breathtaking – need to see it more than once to take it all in. It tells the tale of a wedding – beyond that, it’s hard to recount just what the hell is going on! Great use of music – the cast lip-synching and totally hamming up Oasis’ “Wonderwall” is a definite highlight! And it’s not all pop – some rousing classical/choral pieces also used to great effect. The sheer range and breadth of emotion evoked throughout is astounding. A definite highlight of the Festival. We see the cast at various points during the course of the week stampeding down the High St distributing leaflets – a whirlwind of wigs and white powdered faces – blink, and they’ve gone again!
Back at the flat we do a pre-show run through (which becomes a regular fixture during the week) – still a few creases to be ironed out, last minute things to be done including Russell finishing the sowing on his “fleur-de-lyse” jacket (used during his “Fancy dress competition” poem). We do a final props check – megaphone, scarf, boiler suits, Dr Who hat – and suddenly we’re on our way across town (the journey is mainly uphill – or so it feels!) to the venue. Edinburgh is a glorious city, full of gothic architecture and steep stone steps. We stop off along the way to buy sweets which I will throw into the audience (assuming we get one) during the poem “Jelly monsters”.
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Arriving at the venue we set up quickly and calmly, as a finishing touch we arrange the scarf in a spiral pattern on the stage floor and head backstage to don the pink boilersuits. We’re nervous as the house opens – will anyone show? Amazingly people are trooping in – and they don’t stop coming! We expected one or two, but peering out through a crack in the curtains I see we’ve got a sizeable crowd in – no turning back now!
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The first night has been a great success – better than we could have imagined. Afterwards we are delighted to see Patric Cunnane (another London poet scenster) – he’s been up at the Festival for a few days and has managed to fit us into his busy show seeing schedule.
We all go for a
post-first night drink at the famous Greyfriars Bobby pub down the road.
Russell and I notice a poster on the wall advertising “Hello Dali” – a
forthcoming Festival show celebrating the life and times of Salvador Dali
and starring the one and only Sylvestor McKoy (the seventh Dr Who no
less!). We start musing on the possibility of him doing a cameo appearance
in our show (perhaps doing a live reading on the intro to our apocalyptic
“World Noise” poem which includes the following Sylvestor sound
quote:
“ There are
worlds out there where the sky is burning. Where the seas sleep, and the
rivers dream. People made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere
there’s danger, somewhere there’s injustice. Somewhere else the tea’s
getting cold…Come on Ace, we’ve got work to do!”
In the process he could also plug his own show during our tongue-in-cheek “Salvador Dali doesn’t do the washing up” piece. With this thought in mind, we head off home still bathing in the glow of our first night success….
Today we all troop off to catch John Hegley’s lunchtime show for children (his evening show clashes with ours. Imagine doing two shows per day?! One is tiring enough!). Despite being a children’s show one senses that it wouldn’t be quite the same without a few adults in the audience – Hegley’s humour given free reign and enabling him to build up a rapport with the children without in any way being patronising. And, hell, Hegley’s just such good fun regardless of any notions of “target audience” – we don’t need excuses to see him!
Back on the High Street, our
renditions of “Tom Baker” are getting better and better (at least, more
and more confident and raucous!). Leaflets are flying out of our hands
today. To inject some variety we cajole Nick into playing his “Cubist
painters” song before moving back onto “Tom Baker” for a rousing
finale!
Tonight’s show is much more downbeat – after a storming
start the night before, we have a smaller crowd in tonight (among them our
good friends Laura and Tim) and they’re all so quiet! It’s amazing how an
audience can affect the mood of the performer. We’re more nervous to begin
with tonight – hence the audience are subjected to a rather tentative and
wooden “Tom Baker”. Because of its reliance on acoustic guitar and
semi-sung vocal, it’s always a bit more of an ordeal at the best of times!
Last night we had them roaring in the aisles (well, as near as…) at this
point which relaxed us into the rest of the show. However, things do
improve (and we take comfort from the fact that the performer’s perception
is often markedly different from that of the audience – one wonders if the
two are even in the same room on some occasions). “Nerd” is growing in
stature – becoming a highlight of the show. Also working well is the
“Jelly monsters/Timelord guy” segue – the audience enjoying the sweet
throwing element – performance art, don’t you just love it! It’s becoming
a ritual on the walk up to the theatre each night to stop off and choose
the sweets for that night – we try to vary them.
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We hit on some great marketing
gimmicks today. First – the police box. Amazingly there is a real
old-fashioned “Tardis” style police box right on High Street and we decide
to use this as a base for leafleting. Up until now we’ve employed the
mobile option – walking up and down thrusting leaflets into people’s
hands, hitting the Festival box office queue etc – unfortunately this
creates little impact – everyone being bombarded with leaflets, postcards
and fliers every few seconds – anyone and everyone with a show to promote
is here selling their wares. Moreover, it’s bloody tiring! Instead it
appears to make more sense to stand in one place, generate some sort of
impact or scene of our own and make the punters come to us! – the
ready-made police box provides the perfect opportunity – and it works a
treat! Donning our show costumes (those pink boiler suits augmented by
long multi-coloured scarf and hat) and standing in the shadow of the
police box repeating the same mantra over and over again through the
megaphone – variations on “Stop the Tardis, who’s your favourite Dr Who”,
we soon start getting noticed! Many passers-by are keen to take a leaflet
and in the process stop to tell us who their favourite Dr Who is – so much
so, that we decide to construct a makeshift league table!
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Today we do our first High Street slot without Nick – it boils down to three straight run-throughs of “Tom Baker”, a successful effort though I’m beginning to get a little hoarse! Back at the flat we do a pre-show run through and have a much-needed rest – fatigue is kicking in. We hear back from Sylvestor’s agent – it’s no go. “Sylvestor’s just too busy with rehearsals – it’s a one man show, so he’s under a lot of pressure to get it right etc, but wishes us well with our show, had he been settled into his run he might have done it, it’s certainly the sort of thing he would do…blah, blah….”
Despite the downbeat mood, tonight’s show is a triumph – audience numbers are up again and they’re a vocal bunch out there! We feel renewed.
Stop the Tardis combines poetry, music, monologue and song around the loose theme of Dr Who. It utilises the Project Adorno model of electronic music married to quirky verse. In order to provide some sort of coherence to the whole thing we have tried to link each piece (in that sense it’s different from a usual Project Adorno performance). Along the way we do love songs about about the fourth Dr, Tom Baker:
“Willie
Hartnell and his crotchety moods,
Patrick Troughton, piccolo or flute,
Jon Pertwee so flamboyantly cloaked
Tom Baker we loved you the most”
And another about that leader of the Daleks, Davros:
“It all turned quite surreal
When I revealed my true intentions
And declared my undying love for Davros
At a Dr Who convention”
Patrick Troughton, piccolo or flute,
Jon Pertwee so flamboyantly cloaked
Tom Baker we loved you the most”
And another about that leader of the Daleks, Davros:
“It all turned quite surreal
When I revealed my true intentions
And declared my undying love for Davros
At a Dr Who convention”
It’s a hotch potch of spoken word,
quirky verse and music-hall style song – using an electronic pop backing
and occasional acoustic guitar, by turns dark and melancholic, and by
others, frivolous and utterly stupid. It seems to be
working…
More marketing gimmicks today as we get hold of a great poster of the eight Doctors whilst leafleting the local Forbidden Planet store. We decide to pin it up on the side of “our” police box for all remaining leafleting sessions. We also notice a production of Terry Pratchett’s “Mort” taking place just round the corner from our leafleting patch. We hoof it over there just in time to catch our potential crossover audience as they emerge from the darkness of the show. We thrust leaflets into their hands as they go out blinking into the sunshine.
Nick is back with us for our penultimate High St slot – these are flying by! The rest of the day is relatively uneventful – we are comfortably settled into a routine by now which goes something like this: leafleting, returning to the flat for a rest and a run-through before the walk across town to the venue. Tonights show feels rather mechanical and workmanlike. Before the performance Julian Fox makes a surprise appearance. He’s come to wish us luck, but can’t stay as he must prepare for his own show later that evening. However, Susannah, one of his entourage, does sit in on the performance (which she later describes as having a lot of “charm”…) as does our Norwich poet friend Luke, about to start his Aisle 16 poetry run at the Festival. We go off for another stint of flyposting after the show, an activity which I’m rather enjoying actually!
More “Mort” and police box leafleting today – the latter going particularly well. The addition of the “eight Drs” poster has really fuelled the “who’s your favourite Dr Who” debate – we’re running it almost as a competition and decide to announce the results of our straw poll (i.e. the most popular Dr) at the end of our last show. Meanwhile, our leafleting “patter” is now well rehearsed – it’s almost a cabaret show in itself!
We do our last High St performance – Nick joins us, wrapping himself in the Dr Who scarf, for more “Tom Baker” renditions – the whole thing having a celebratory feel.
Back at the flat and I decide to go for a walk in the spacious and well-kept garden – it’s huge (many acres) and somewhat embarrassingly, I soon get rather lost – it feels quite liberating really. Although the rain has stopped it’s still very grey overhead and wet underfoot – but it’s a tranquil place, very lush with immaculate lawns and even a tennis court – a private garden for the use of Regent Terrace residents only. I can think of worse places to get lost.
After finding my way back eventually, it’s time to go again, just as the rain starts coming down once more. Tonight’s show has, possibly, the lowest turnout of the run. It’s all rather quiet, however we do have friends in the audience – Alison (“Rice”) and poet Deryl have come to watch. Nick is also there (making his second appearance – he was also there for our opening night). Highlight of the show tonight is undoubtedly the vision of me trying to don my “Nerd” anorak – back to front and upside down (I couldn’t work out quite what was wrong!). It brings the house down and certainly livens up the atmosphere. We “come down” after the show with more fly-posting – it’s quite therapeutic.
Today is the day we move house. Our residency at the plush Regent Terrace is over – for the remainder of our stay we’ll be lodging at a B&B on the other side of town, a less fashionable but equally interesting area of the city populated with a plethora of charity shops, junk shops and second hand record shops, all of which we intend to visit once we get a spare moment.
John Hegley is obviously staying nearby – later the same day we see him walking along the road towards us looking very pleased with himself, clutching a second-hand portable radio which he’s just bought from the junk shop a few yards down the road. We can’t resist a look in the shop that’s just been touched by the purchase of Hegley – we soon find ourselves picking through items as diverse as old radio and hi-fi components, sailors’ hats, rolls of carpet and other assorted junk - it’s an Aladdin’s cave in there and suddenly everything becomes a potential prop for the show. Looking up I suddenly spot a battered old twelve string acoustic guitar – it’s something I’ve been thinking of buying – however, being a left-handed guitarist adds complications – the guitar would need re-stringing and there’s no guarantee on the sound quality…regretfully I decide against it.
All in all a very positive evening – we leave on a high. One more night to go, but will it top tonight’s show? With renewed vigour, a last late night flyposting session begins in earnest.
Fringe Sunday & the 8 Drs poster
We wake up feeling very tired today – whatever anyone says, doing Edinburgh is definitely a marathon and the week is beginning to take its toll. We soldier on knowing that there’s only one more performance to go. Besides, today we have a break in the routine. First off, we’re performing at the Fringe Sunday event – a huge festival taking place at West Meadows Park – yet another great promotional opportunity. It’s all rather reminiscent of a country fete or farmers market – I am reminded of a gig we did at the Sutton Borough Show a few years ago – it’s that sort of vibe! We’re the first act on in the “cabaret tent” – a bit of a graveyard shift, but we’re determined to enjoy ourselves. It’s one of the best PAs we’ve ever had and we give it a gutsy performance.
We intend to do an intensive leafleting blitz around the park after our slot, however, shortly after we come off stage the heavens open and stay open for pretty much the rest of the day. We opt to leave the park (which is getting steadily more waterlogged – pity the poor performers and audience who stay on – in retrospect it’s turned out that we’ve actually had one of the better slots). Instead we head into town for more High Street leafleting. This, too, is less than successful. With no let up in the rain our boiler suits are getting soggier and the pink dye is starting to run! We dive indoors to catch the “Mort” crowd only to find the show isn’t running today. A last ditch flyposting session ensues as the rain gets harder…we are getting soaked!
With leafleting abandoned
(hell, it’s the last show tonight – and we certainly tried!) we find we
have some time on our hands, so, after drying off, we go browsing in some
of Edinburgh’s finest alternative record shops. “Avalanche” is a great
find and we learn that they have three branches in the
city.
And suddenly that’s it – we’ve done it! Seven straight performances in seven nights – it’s been gruelling but there’s a feeling of immense satisfaction. Jude Simpson has been along to support us tonight – and indeed we’ve been overwhelmed by the level of support we’ve had during the week from friends and fellow poets who have come along to watch. An Indian meal takes the place of flyposting tonight. Tomorrow we will shop!
We remain in Edinburgh for a couple more days giving us a chance to check out the charity shops and multitude of record shops. We also catch as many shows as we can – making up for the abstinence that was unavoidable during our run. Notable highlights include Kit and the Widow’s “Les enfants du parody” – a camp cabaret double act par excellence with fabulous, witty songs touching on current affairs and popular culture; and the “Adventures of Stoke Mandeville: astronaut and gentleman” – a great flier and indeed a great show.
We also get to see “Rice” again which is just as mind-blowing the second time, and of course, we can’t possibly leave Edinburgh without seeing Sylvestor McKoy in “Hello Dali”. (We note that our “Salvador Dali” piece includes many of the reference points included in Sylvestor’s show – he would have had fun with it!). “Hilarious” – The Scotsman……….You just made that up!
We de-materialise back to London on the train….
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