Edinburgh Festival - 4th August 2013

4th August 2013  Pleasance Court Yard 

5th show in the run

Length 45 minutes.

I have forgotten exactly what a bad gig at the Edinburgh festival feels like. That inevitable  whiff of hostage situation that emerges between you and the audience (except sometimes real life hostages start to develop a rapport with their captors). That initial hope that things maybe able to be turned around. The eventual realisation that it is not going to get better for either party but like a bad marriage you plough on out of misplaced sense of duty. 

That shared belief that the other party doesn’t know what the hell they are doing. The moments when you preview the upcoming material in your head, listing all the routines that the audience are about to not enjoy. Flashbacks except from the future. It hasn’t happened yet and already I am traumatised by it. The dwindling faith of the audience as they increasing come to the conclusion, that I will never pull a rabbit from the hat. The conviction I have that even when I do it will be mistaken as a pile of shit, after all I am now viewed as a man who doesn’t know what the hell I am doing. And yet it didn’t have to be this way. It was all going so well at one minute in... 

Before Gig

I feel more relaxed today than at any point during the fringe. Today is the first day I have had nothing else on other than my show. I have a sauna at lunchtime. I try to get into a play about Gordon Brown- it is sold out. I have more time at home to run through the material and practice facial movements in the mirror. I practice the opening of the back stage, finding new ways of saying it. I really feel it is coming together. The audience sound up beat as they come in. The microphones are working perfectly today. I don’t need a piss. My legs ache from the Edinburgh hills.

During Gig

I say good evening. I ask the audience how they are. A man nods, a man belatedly says “good”. It provides a jumping off point for some banter. This is probably the best opening of the run although I am not doing material yet. Two guys come in late, the first latecomers of the run. They apologise for being late. They had just come from a gig by the “Red Bastard” . I misunderstand this and think they are saying “some bastard kept them late” more banter so far so good. We clear up the confusion. They say “the red bastard was good, you better be fucking good.” They mean this playfully but it comes out as aggressive and I treat it in the spirit it was intended instead of treating in the tone it came out as. In hindsight I should hammer them at this point. They have challenged my authority but I feel I have the audience onside and instead I play with it too much. Of course, I am fucking good, haven’t you seen how the others shows have gone? Obviously they haven’t. Didn’t you see me at Joke Thieves last night? No they didn’t. Didn’t you see me showcase last night? Apparently not. But this is what I am thinking. It is my room. Nothing to worry about. So i go into material, i start the show and I can see now this looks like a retreat. The start just doesn’t work. The “but its the 1970s line”, always lands. It doesn’t tonight. Shit. Trouble. “His wife had four jobs”, always kills, tonight tepid response. I don’t worry, I think I can get traction, but as I move from routine to routine it doesn’t build.

At about ten minutes the two late comers leave. They are polite as they go. It is obviously a verdict on me. I am glad they didn’t hang it out. There is a noticeable lightening in the mood as they go. There is relief. The gig rallies briefly. But after a brief Indian Summer it slumps again. There are two couples who are enjoying bits of it and if only I can get a few more of those people I can build this up. I really try to work on eye contact and making it as coversational in tone and as personal as possible, but I can’t hook other people in. I am sweating now. It is hot but am I worried? Probably. I get some routines in the wrong order and this can only be pressure. I play it professional to the end. I keep trying to make it work. I keep acting as everything is Ok. I don’t think there is anything to be gained by admitting the obvious. I keep it polite. Do they think I actually think it is OK? Do they think I am mad. 

I don’t think there is much point breaking down material in this report. The gig was so fucked little can be gained from moving from routine to routine and comparing them. 

After Gig

I don’t think I could take another gig like this at the festival. It would kill me. There was no press in tonight. Thank God. No one need ever know about this gig. 

Behind the Fringe - Edinburgh Festival Series 3

Edinburgh Festival Series 3

Edinburgh Preview Margate

Friday 23^rd June 2013

16:30 hrs

The Edinburgh festival is fast approaching and I need stage time to try out new material. Stage time is at a premium at the moment. I need stage time the way a junky needs 40 pence for a cup of tea. Tonight I am in Margate, Kent previewing my Edinburgh show. It is Friday night and I have to cross from one side of London to the other. I have left in plenty of time - you know what traffic can be like on a Friday. I don’t want to be late. I want to be early. I want to arrive early and sit in the dressing room a cup of tea or a can of coke (I’ll play it by ear) and read my notes. I want to run through my notes before hand and then go on stage and look all spontaneous. If I am early enough I may even have a nap before I check my notes. I hate rushing in at the last minute and going straight on stage, especially when I am driving. There is nothing worse than going on stage with a driving head on. I like to go stage with a gig head on and I need a transition period. An artistic crysallis if you like. 

17:20 hrs

I am driving around London on the M25: only a lunatic would try and go through the middle of London on a Friday evening. Don’t go through the middle, no, you want to go around the edge. Zoom round the outside and zoom down the A2 and there you are there. Nice and early. Nap. Tea. Notes. Gig. Lovely. I am zooming around the M25. Actually I am crawling but that is only a temporary set back in an otherwise flawless plan. Soon I will be past Heathrow Airport and things will pick up you’ll see.

18:35 hrs

I am now past Heathrow Airport and things should pick up shortly. At the moment average speed is 5mph. That is all these bastards heading down to the M3. Once we past the M3 junction and we loose these M3 bastards then we’ll see who’s going at 5mph. I hate going at 5mph. It’s virtually being stopped but not quite so I can’t read my notes while I drive.  I am still going at 5mph. I think I will forget about that nap. I think that’s a luxury I can do without. I left early exactly to accomadate delays like this. Genius.

19.55 hrs

I am past the M3 junction and all the bastards going to the M3 have left the M25 and there are still loads of other bastards on this road, getting in my way stopping me from going fast.  Where are they coming from these other drivers? I need to get to this gig. Edinburgh is fast approaching. I need to try out this new show. What I don’t need is to still be on the M25. What I don’t need is to keep changing lanes and find that it doesn’t matter which one I choose because they are all as slow as each other anyway. I cannot be on this road all day. I need to be in Margate trying out my show. I need to be in Margate reading my notes before I go on stage. I can’t go on stage without reading my notes the I will genuinely have to ad lib and no one wants that.

20.40 hrs

Eventually! At last.  I see the cause of all the delay: A burnt out truck sitting on the hard shoulder. It is no longer on fire so I can’t even enjoy the spectacle of it burning. It’s just a blackened shell that’s been holding me up for hours. I have nothing but contempt for this lorry. No, actually I feel pity for it. Pity for its sad pathetic indulgent behaviour. It’s selfish attitude. There even appears to be an air of arrogance of it as I drive past it but I may have imagined it. I am on stage in an hour and twenty minutes. I hope I have time for that cup of tea. I must make it to this gig.   At last the traffic is moving. I speed up to 80mph. My troubles are over.

2050 hrs

Roadworks now and  temporary speed restrictions and  average speed cameras.

That’s it. I am not going to be early now. I am going to be on time now That is the last thing I wanted. I don’t want to walk straight out of my car and straight on stage. . I better phone the venue and let them know I will be on time.

 “Hello it’s Stephen Carlin…the comedian…I am on at your venue tonight…well I am running late… I will be with you on time …sorry for the innconvieiennce.” I don’t have time to look at my notes. But I can think about them as I drive. I try to think about my notes but I cannot remember much about them. That is why there were written down in the first place because the information is not in my head. Shit!

2110 hrs

The roadworks finish but still the M25 goes on. It goes on and on and on. I haven’t even hit the A2 yet. How long does the M25 go on for anyway? Technically forever obviously, but you know what I mean. I think I will be slightly late. This is definitely the last thing I wanted. Deep breath. It’s OK I will be 15 minutes late I can handle that. So long as the gig goes ahead. I need it to go ahead. I need to practice my Edinburgh Show. This gig must go ahead at all costs.

21.30 hrs

I should be on stage now. I am at Dartford. I finally leave the M25. I think I can do this in half an hour if I drive extremely fast. I drive 99mph. I don’t want to do 100mph because if you get caught doing 100mph that is it: an instant ban. I don’t want a ban, I just want penalty points. I better phone the venue. “It is Stephen Carlin here. I am running late. I will be half an hour late. But don’t worry I am driving at 99mph.” I don’t explain the significance of the 99mph and he doesn’t ask. This gig must happen, failure is not an option… what if failure is an option? Don’t think like that stay positive. This gig must go ahead  keep driving. Make it happen.

22:00 hrs

The venue phones me back, the audience are wanting to leave apparently. “Well make them stay … I am busting my gut here… doing 99mph… just tell them that”. This audience can’t bail on me now. I pass a sign that says Margate 58 miles. Good. I think I can do this in half an hour now and I will only be one hour late.

22.05hrs

The venue phones again. The audience have all left. Well fuck them. I am driving at 99mph for nothing. The gig slips away from my grasp.  I will get to the Edinburgh festival unprepared now. It doesn’t matter how prepared I am. I will always be one preview behind. This audience have stolen a bit of my show. This must never happen again.

Archive - 15th Jan 2013 - The Stand Glasgow

Show Report Tuesday 15^th January 2013

The Stand Comedy Club – Glasgow

Before Show

Red Raw is the name of the new act night at the Stand Comedy Clubs. It is the first rung on the ladder for aspiring new comedians north of the border. Every comedian from Scotland has played Red Raw. Kevin Bridges has played Red Raw. Daniel Sloss has played Red Raw.  Everybody that has ever done comedy in Scotland has played Red Raw. I have never played Red Raw. I missed out on earning my Red Raw stripes because I started stand up comedy in London.

Tonight however, I am putting that right. I am playing Red Raw in Glasgow for the first time.  Ahead of a weekend of gigs at the Stand in Edinburgh I want to try out new material. Although Red Raw is technically a show for newer acts, more experienced acts frequently use it to try out new material. Basically it’s where less experienced acts can pitch their best material against more experienced acts doing new stuff in the hope that that provides some kind of level playing field.

I am pretty relaxed tonight. I don’t need to worry. I know it is the first time I have played this gig but seriously I probably have more experience than all the other acts on the bill added together. And how many people will there be in the audience anyway? Fifty if you’re lucky. How many people come to watch a new act night? Maybe forty. And it is a Tuesday night and the entry fee is £2 (£1 for students) so what the hell can the audience be expecting? – all thirty of them.  I have nothing to worry about. I don’t mean to be complacent but this is going to be easy. I just have to remember what I want to say and hold my nerve if something doesn’t work. Just stare them down. Tuesday night audiences are easy to bully. They’re not like the feral bastards you get on Friday nights. If something doesn’t work, dare them not to like it. There won’t be that many of them anyway. Twenty tops. This is going to be a stress free experience. I don’t want to conjure up phrases involving “walk” and “park” but this is how I’m feeling.

I arrive at the Glasgow Stand. The place is rammed. The sign says sold out. I have trouble getting in the door. It is standing room only. There must be 250 people in the place and there is an energy and excitement that doesn’t say Tuesday night to me. How the hell can this have happened? “Frankie’s on” a member of staff informs me. “Frankie’s doing some new stuff” mutters a comedian. Somebody else just says “Frankie” by way of an explanation. Frankie of course is Frankie Boyle, who has now ascended to the level of single name celebrity status like Madonna or Kylie. He is just “Frankie”. I don’t think I can ever be “Stephen”  there are too many of us.

Big name acts invariably keep it secret when they drop into to try out new material but word always leaks out.  This audience are here for Frankie Boyle.

“You’re on next Stephen”

“Next? What do you mean next?”

“You were told to be here for 9.30 right?”

“Yes so naturally I assume that meant I wasn’t on till at least 10 O’clock. You never tell a comedian to be there for the right time.”

“Why not?”

“Because of the buffer zone”

“What buffer zone?”

“The buffer zone. It is a thing in comedy. You tell comedians to be there earlier than you actually need them.”

“I have never heard of that.”

“It’s universal.

“Well I have never heard of it. Have you guys heard of the buffer zone?”

“It doesn’t matter whether they guys have heard of the buffer zone. You can’t take a vote on it. It’s not a matter of opinion. It’s a matter of indisputable fact like gravity or gamma rays.”

“Well you’re on now.”

Great! I am on now. I haven’t had enough time to mentally prepare. This is bullshit. Telling me to be here for the right time. There are too many people here too. Why didn’t they tell me it would be rammed? They didn’t tell me it wouldn’t be but I think there was an unspoken understanding. I didn’t prepare for 250 people in my head. I need to recalibrate. I don’t have time to recalibrate. They’ll want polished routines. I don’t have polished routines. They’ll want people off of the telly. I’m not off of the telly. I have new stuff that is patchy. They’ll hate this. Maybe they will love this. Don’t judge them Stephen. Why not? They can judge me. Two can play at that game. I can’t remember the new stuff in detail.

During Gig

I tend to bookend the new material with tried and tested stuff. Opening and closing with an old joke but ironically tonight the tried and tested stuff works least well.

I do some new material about speaking to ugly people on twitter. It seems a bit harsh the way I set it up and I realize as I’m saying it the middle should really be the beginning of the routine. I am getting into it all wrong. There is good comedy in there but that routine is all arse about face. This happens a lot. Routines can have messy births and come out in the wrong order. But lesson learned. I will rewrite it for the next time.

I feel things really pick up when I am talking about gambling and I hit my stride. This is the advantage of talking about a subject I have researched thoroughly. I ask a rhetorical question about playing the lottery and a woman answers me explaining something about some accountants she knows who are rich. She has a very husky voice.  I hone in on this. I tell her she has a sexy voice and I like it very much. Her husband pipes up saying that was one of the major attractions. They seem a lot of fun and under normal circumstances I would pursue this line of enquiry further. But I only have ten minutes and I really want to get through this new stuff. I have to close them down. I pretty much say what I did just say, namely that I don’t have time and ordinarily we would be bantering like nobody’s business. This supplies a big laugh. What the fuck? I was saying a fact. Not a joke. Maybe the truth is always funny. I get about 90% of the way through the gambling stuff and I forget the end of the routine. The end is invariably the best bit. I can’t remember it. I try to tread water for a few seconds hoping it will leap back into my brain, but it won’t come. I tell the audience that I can’t remember the end and they don’t laugh at this. Now they hate the truth. I tell them they should like my confession because it is the truth but they still don’t like that- and that was the truth. Then I remember the end and I do the ending and the audience go with it and like it. The ending material isn’t even based on fact. It is made up. Now the audience like lies. There moral compass is all over the place.

I do some material about American gun sprees but I won’t say anything on it here. I don’t have time. I don’t want to talk about it but in a neutral way. Nothing bad happened I just don’t wish to talk about.

After Gig

The woman with the sexy voice approaches me after the gig. She wants a photograph with her and her friends. She is a very amusing and chatty. She is good fun to chat to. I know she would have been great to banter with on stage. She casually informs me that her voice is the result of treatment for throat cancer. I apologise to her for any offence I could have caused but she bats the apology away. She’s glad I like her voice and says rather flippantly “at least something good has come out of the cancer.” 

I admire this woman. Many times people in audiences have taken offence at what I consider to be nothing – particularly when they are offended on behalf of other people. “Oh you can’t say that” etc. And yet she had grounds to be upset or offended but isn’t and accepts the comments in the spirit in which they were intended. She also mentioned the cancer to me off stage because she knew that mentioning it during the show would screw me up. See I knew she was a great heckler. She promises to come and watch me again. I hope she does and I hope she heckles me too.