Radio Silence

London Fields # 84
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 3 November 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here

It could be argued that in most music, there is no silence (excepting pop songs with false endings). But like the holes of a Henry Moore sculpture, the absence of something can be as important as its presence, and it is the sale of that absence that has made news in the latest bizarre story relating to the British pop charts. UK Christmas number one singles often fall into simple categories – it used to be the novelty song or the seasonal song, but in the last few years a new category of the reality TV show winner has been added. This modern paradigm was subverted last year when, through the actions of a Facebook group, Killing In The Name by Rage Against The Machine became an unusual Yuletide chart topper, keeping The X-Factor winner from the top slot, and annoying Simon Cowell in the process. In an attempt to make such acts of defiance against The Man a new tradition, this year there are moves to keep talent show hopefuls at bay by promoting the idea of getting John Cage’s 1952 composition 4’33” to number one slot in 2010, once again through an orchestrated Facebook campaign.

Although sometimes derided as pretentious, Cage’s composition (which had an early working title of Silent Prayer) isn’t really 4’33” of silence, but rather 277 seconds of deliberately not making noise. It was a deliberate response to the rise of Muzak at the time of its composition, and was written in three movements (purportedly of 30″, 2′23″ and 1′40″ duration). In live performance, the inclusion of ambient sounds, be they shuffling audience members, or your own breathing or the sound of blood circulating around the body, are key to the experience. Cage Against The Machine (as it’s come to be known) currently has 45,000 followers on Facebook, and things were looking very promising - until a rival silent record was announced. The Royal British Legion hopes to raise funds for veterans of conflicts by releasing Two Minute Silence via iTunes next Sunday.

In the UK, the Armistice silence is still marked at eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, but the major ceremonies take place on the Cenotaph on Whitehall on Remembrance Sunday which is commemorated on the second Sunday each November. Here the beginning of the silent observance is marked by a cannon fired in Horse Guards and its end by the playing of the Last Post, followed by the laying of wreathes by The Queen and leaders of the main UK political parties. The video to accompany Two Minute Silence mirrors this, showing a parade of known faces, from David Tennant to David Cameron, via Thom Yorke staring solemnly (or perhaps balefully) into the camera. They hope it will help them to meet the £36m target they’ve set for this year’s appeal, and reach #1 on Remembrance Sunday.

The Royal British Legion is undoubtedly a good cause, but will the mp3 buying public play this game twice in two months, even if it is for charity? In a strange homage to The X Factor, the ‘winning’ charity for proceeds from Cage Against The Machine will be selected by a public vote. As far as videos go, I preferred The Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre’s tribute to the 4’33” campaign (which you can find on YouTube). If CATM does succeed, will it get any airplay? Radio stations have an automatic emergency cut-in if more than a prescribed amount of ‘dead air’ occurs. A live broadcast of a performance of the composition by the BBC Symphony Orchestra on BBC Radio 3 a few years back required special measures to be taken to prevent the stand-by system cutting in.

But as far as Christmas goes, it now seems there a new contender in the ring. Another Facebook group set up to challenge The X-Factor’s chart dominance is snowballing. This one is attempting to get Surfin’ Bird, a 1963 single by The Trashmen (as featured in an episode of Family Guy) to the coveted Christmas #1. The group has already amassed around 11,000 members at the time of writing and the support of BBC Radio 1 afternoon DJ Scott Mills. But, as with all such movements, the question as to whether any group members will actually buy the song is question it is another matter altogether. I can think of some records that would be better if silent – anything by the Kings Of Leon would be a good start. But personally, I hope both silent records manage to top the charts. Silence to remember the dead is profound - as Hamlet’s last words chillingly declare “The rest is silence”. But as far a Christmas goes, what could be more appropriate than a piece of music that is truly Silent Night?

© James McGalliard 2010

Edinblur

London Fields # 69
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 16 September 2009
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here

Edinblur tends to strike the Scottish capital each August, as those journeying to the annual Edinburgh Fringe Festival try and cram as much as possible into the time and space available. This is my attempt in words. Pappy's Fun Club's World Record Attempt: 200 Sketches in an Hour is an immediate highlight. They are able to make a large venue feel quite intimate, and it’s clear that they’re actually really enjoying it and each other. Their best material is imbued with a childlike wonder that makes it rather special. It’s very funny with running gags that work really well, some great ‘home made’ props, but mostly it’s about how they take you along on the ride with them, so much so that you’re literally dancing in your seat by the end.

New Art Club mix dance and humour in This Is Now, a reminiscence of 1983, first loves, cassette tapes, bad hair and the dawn of the Now That’s What I Call Music chart compilation LPs. Never again will I hear Give It Up by KC and The Sunshine Band again without picturing their accompanying choreography of IRA kneecappings and executions by balaclava-wearing dancers. Manchester’s Lady Garden were also busting with energy, and the multi-faceted performers have a pretty good grasp of when to end a sketch. From the simple supermarket announcements, to what real ladettes would be like, to the Six Wives of Henry VIII as Britain’s Next Top Monarch, they are a troupe to watch for.

Former Perrier Award winner Laura Solon returned with Rabbit Face Story Soup, a self-composed multi-character one-woman show, in which aspiring literary agent’s assistant Diana Lewis relates the story of her entry into the world of publishing. Solon takes on a kaleidoscope of roles to tell the tale, and inhabits each part in a bravura performance, which additionally introduces the concept of Crocodile Scrabble to the world. Elsewhere Pythonesque attempted to tell the story of Monty Python via a pastiche of their sketches. While a clever conceit, for the most part it lacked the anarchic edge of the source material, with only James Lance’s turn as Eric Idle bemoaning Python fanatics and theatre crowds coming anywhere close to capturing what it sought to honour. Over at the Traverse, The Interminable Suicide Of Gregory Church saw Daniel Kitson combine theatre and stand-up in a tale which effortlessly slipped from the real to the imagined as he unravelled the mystery of a suicide that took twenty-four years to succeed. It may seem like dark matter for comedy, yet Kitson’s skill is to gradually get you to care about his characters by the building of a complex jigsaw that mirrors a real life lived. It makes for a genuinely affecting, beautifully humanistic and eventually uplifting and life-affirming evening.

Australian cinema may never recover from its potted history as depicted in The Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre Goes To Hollywood. Their last show was my highlight of 2008, and this year’s return featured a suitably irreverent Michael Jackson tribute, the best costume fast-changes on the Fringe, light sabres making music and a song about swine flu – to the theme of Footloose! On a more serious note, Hitler Moustache, the 25th consecutive show Richard Herring has taken to Edinburgh, felt like the culmination of all that he’d done before. It cunningly challenged perceptions of racism and pushed boundaries in a cleverly considered and thought-provoking way in which even liberals were not beyond baiting or criticism. Some of the gratuitousness was extremely funny, but he also successfully linked the recent political successes of far-right parties to general apathy without it feeling too much like a lecture.

The sheer physical skill and dexterity of the acrobats of ThisSideUp’s Controlled Falling Project provided many moments of jaw-dropping wonder, while Stewart Lee proved that his point that the last taboo of stand-up is to do something sincerely and well, by closing with a beautiful rendition of Steve Earle’s Galway Girl. Festival veteran Simon Munnery jumped from light to deeply personal in his AGM 2009, and his quiet self-assurance had me really liking what he was doing without being able to explain exactly why afterwards. Ophelia (drowning) by 3Bugs Fringe Theatre recreated Millais’ famous painting in a hotel swimming pool, and having the audience leaving her floating corpse in a pool, with no applause to break the mood or signal the end, was a chilling coup de théâtre. On my last night, Edwyn Collins was joined by fellow Orange Juice cohort Malcolm Ross for a few numbers. The band’s instruments were all amplified acoustic, performing new arrangements that really worked well, especially a gripping version of Rip It Up. The love in the room it was particularly touching, and it was a special way to end this year’s experience.


© James McGalliard 2009

Just a little off The Fringe

London Fields # 56

First published Inpress, Melbourne on 10 September 2008

NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here

For three weeks every August, Edinburgh visibly groans as patrons of the various festivals add to the already considerable weight of the tourist horde. Even though The Fringe had one of its worst years ever for ticket sales (leading to the resignation of its director Jon Morgan), rooms remained hard to find and expensive. On the Royal Mile, there’s fierce competition from leafleters to street performers for your attention and patronage.

Most striking was the way the city was tagged EVERYWHERE, with stickers, specially printed t-shirts, postcards and beer mats proclaiming This Belongs To Lionel Richie. Such inventiveness led me to see the flagship of their five show assault This Sketch Show Belongs To Lionel Richie. This seven strong team kept things brief, rattling through 25-odd sketches in an hour, meaning little overstayed its welcome. It also didn’t rely on the constant repetition of characters which seems to be the current industry standard, and it had almost TV-like speed in its switches between scenes. Special mention must go the sketch featuring the misguided attempts of using Radiohead’s Thom Yorke to advertise mini chicken kievs (Pay whatever you like, or nothing at all, or get them in a deluxe boxset for £40…No Thom! Cut!!)

There was a strong Australian presence at the Fringe as well, from small free events to Circus Oz’s 30th anniversary show. Brendan Burns, the winner of last years IF award (formerly the Perrier) was a hot ticket, as was Tim Minchin, particularly after a feature of the BBC2’s special Edinburgh edition of The Culture Show. Also featured on the same programme was The Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre, which was my personal highlight of my time there. It’s a one man two-hander (three if you count the invisible Emo sock), featuring a playful reworking of Johnny Cash’s Walk The Line with a guitar-playing sock, a five minute King Lear, a dissection of Abbott & Costello’s Who’s On First routine, and a improv song from cut-outs of Kraftwerk in a cameo appearance. Of course it’s a little naff, but knowingly so, and so good natured you can’t help but love it. And on top of that all, it’s extremely funny, even (especially?) when things go a little wrong. I hope that someone from the Melbourne Comedy Festival sees sense and brings this show out next year.
Over in The Spiegeltent, My Friend the Chocolate Cake returned for their first UK shows in over a decade. With no London shows booked, their appearance was the deciding factor making the trip north. With a short 70’ set, perhaps they didn’t pick the best material to showcase themselves, and some sound issues early on didn’t help. But then it all came together, and was over much too soon. Theirs was a relatively small crowd the night I went, and it made me a little sad to see the queue around the Spiegelgarden for the late show, La Clique, which through word-of-mouth became the must see show of the Festival.


In the Balcony Room of the Gilded Balloon, the subject of Damian Callinan’s show mmm… they’re small proved a bit much for some audience members, who walked out once it became clear that it was gonna be an hour of balls, or at least about them. Perhaps it was an error in judgement for the flyers not to explain that the show is his journey of self-discovery about infertility and relationships, both interpersonal and with his testicles. There were many ways this could have gone, and for me the mix of high and low humour, pathos, education, knob jokes, Catholic references and role playing just didn’t hang together. It felt more like a work in progress, lacking both laughs and a deeper emotional level. While Callinan remains an extremely likeable performer, this didn’t really show his best side.

Then again, it is the contrasts that make the festival so interesting. Simon Kempston and Friends, a trio of guitar, cello and bodhran, stitched through with his unique otherworldly voice, provided a lunchtime moment in St Giles Cathedral. On the street outside, David McSavage’s routine consisted of harranging passers by with very funny short musical ditties (although one day someone will twat him, as some of these were a little on the sharp side). On South Bridge Street there’s a queue outside an unassuming café called The Elephant House. Inside are more people sitting alone with their laptops than you’d think possible. For it was here that a certain Joanne Rowling sat each day to write the first Harry Potter novel, so other aspiring writers pilgrimage here hoping that a little, ahem, magic will rub off on them.

But perhaps the most surreal moment of the whole Festival occurs late on a Sunday night as I walked across The Meadows after catching some free Finnish stand-up (don’t ask). For coming from the nearby marquees was the distinctive sound of ex-Fringe favourites The Doug Anthony All Stars. Yep, The World’s Best Kisser graced the Fringe once again, this time courtesy of The Ladyboys Of Bangkok. Oh yes, I hope to be back again next year.

NB: This column does NOT belong to Lionel Richie!


© James McGalliard 2008