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 - Neath - 20th December 2012

Show Report Thursday 20^th December 2012

Neath, near Swansea, Wales.

Before Gig.

This gig is a good 200 miles drive from my home and another 200 miles back. That’s a 400 mile gig. Generally the longer it takes me to get to a gig, the better it had better be just to justify the long journey. What I do is take the number of laughs I get at a gig and divide by the number of miles and see if I am happy with the ratio. Long distance gigs have a lot of pressure on them.  They have to perform well. While audiences think, “I hope the comedians are good”. I am thinking, “I hope the gig is good”. The gig better be shit hot tonight.

It is dark and I have been driving from London on my own with nothing for company but a talking book. Talking books make me sleepy. The dark makes me sleepy. So I swig coffee all of the way. I have just cut out sugar from my coffee. It tastes disgusting without the sugar. It doesn’t really energize me either; I suspect that all this time it’s the sugar that has been giving me a hit and not the caffeine.

I arrive in the town and drive through Neath looking for a parking space. I see gangs of young men standing outside pubs. They are wearing checked shirts. I see other gangs of young men walking down the street. They look violent.  Perhaps they are heading to my gig? Perhaps they will not be enjoying my comedy in a few hours time? Perhaps their future selves are even now beating up a future Stephen Carlin?

When I walk into the venue I relax. The venue is a pub that plainly has an established pedigree in live music. It is suitably dingy. The carpet is actually threadbare. I can still smell stale smoke that lingers from before the smoking ban. There isn’t even proper lighting on the way to the toilets. I am in safe hands. I distrust venues that are too gleaming; they clearly have something to hide. This gig obviously knows what it’s doing. It is clearly an experienced gig.  As an established live venue the building is well versed in performance etiquette. The show is already in progress and consists of interesting character comedy. The audience seem consummate audience members. It is clearly down to me. I worry that my pure stand up comedy will be too straight and conventional for this obviously comedy savvy crowd. 

I have just drank a whole flask of coffee, I feel flat. I need something to perk me up. I want to have a coke before I go on stage but remember my sugar embargo. I order a lemonade at the bar instead (I think lemonade also has sugar in it). They only have the cloudy lemonade, the good stuff, the stuff that is actually made from lemons and tastes of lemons. “Sorry about that” apologies the barman “We don’t have any proper lemonade in.”  Proper lemonade – the stuff made from chemicals. This attitude reassures me further. It reminds me of my Scottish heritage.

“Do twenty to thirty (minutes)” says the promoter.  “Thirty if it’s going well. See how it goes. Twenty to thirty”

During Gig

As I take to the stage I notice that the microphone lead has been wrapped around the mic stand. I spend the first few moments of my set unwrapping the mic lead from the stand in a very in expertise fashion. I think this makes me look fumbling and amateurish. Also it may have been wrapped around for a good reason such as there is a bad connection in the cable. So unwrapping it may also be a very bad idea. There is a beam across the back of the stage that is lower than my head. While shorter acts can stand underneath it with impunity I will bang my head if I move too far back so I spend the first few moments also recalibrating my future moments on stage to avoid this health and safety nightmare.

The first five minutes are under par and in my head I blame being distracted by the microphone lead situation.  But listing back to the recording I rushed the first five minutes. It’s not really until I do the section on Uncle Liam that I feel the gig really takes off and also strangely the pace and timing become right (maybe there is a connection? we will never know?). 

The “dumping a mate” material is very sensitive to regional attitudes. It is generally lapped up in the south of England, treated with suspicion in Scotland and out right hatred in Liverpool. What do the Welsh think? At first they seem unsure of it and I wonder if I should get out early but I preserve with and they come around to it.

I adlib a bit around the “Sex for the 1^st time stuff” not really conscious of what I am actually saying. I say some new line that really works and some people in the audience repeat it back to me. It is comedy gold. I must incorporate it into future gigs. I better remember it. I forget it and the recording is too muffled at that precise moment to reveal what it was. It’s gone forever. Fuck!

I resurrect some old Christmas material because it is Christmas and everybody knows Christmas especially at Christmas time. I do a section about Christmas cards. It turns out that most of the audience do not send Christmas cards. I thought Christmas cards were mainstream but they have gone niche. This is the problem with society. It can never make up its mind about what it thinks and what it’s doing.

At this a man in the audience gets up moves towards the stage and hands me a business card. It says “Seasons Greetings. I am too tight to buy you a Christmas card etc”.”  I ad lib around this for about five minutes. I am conscious that I keep wanting to push the adlib further to see how far I can go with it. I resist the urge to snap back into the material. It takes the gig to a different level but I now worry that it will jar when I finally drop back into material. (I now wish I had added this to the ad lib. This impossibility of getting into material after a sustained period of successful adlibbing).

I sometimes do a section on Joyce Carol Vincent. It is in dubious taste at the best of times and at Christmas is in even more dubious taste. It seems to divide audiences in unpredictable ways. I never know if any particular audience will go for it. Also I have to do the whole thing for it to work. I cannot just do bits of it. I have to do the whole lot to get the pay off. So it is always a risk and that is what I like about it. It appeals to the degenerate gambler in me. I do it. It pays off. I therefore feel I have licence in future to take unnecessary risks.

 

After Gig

“I enjoyed that,” informs the compere. “I’m impressed and I wasn’t expecting to be impressed.”  This is one of the best things anyone has ever said to me after a gig. Complimentary but from a position of totally honesty. 

I want to hang out and chat with the audience but I also remember the 200 miles drive back home and I leave. I wish this were my last gig before Christmas. It would be a great one to go out on. But it isn’t.